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c/v.  ^y^uy^i^^  t^/^i^iAe^?2^ 


BEAUCHAMFS    CAREER 


^ 


COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY 
GEORGE  MEREDITH 


HENRY  MORSE  STEPHENS 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAP,  PAcm 

I.    THE    CHAMPfON   OF    HIS   COUNTRY 1 

II.    UNCLE,    NEPHEW,    AND   ANOTHER 12 

III.  CONTAINS   BARONIAL   VIEWS    OF    THE    PRESENT    TIME  21 

IV.  A   GLIMPSE   OF   NEVIL   IN   ACTION 31 

V.    REN^E 39 

VI.    LOVE   IN   VENICE 44 

VII.    AN   AWAKENING   FOR   BOTH 48 

VIII.     A    NIGHT    ON    THE    ADRIATIC 57 

IX.    MORNING   AT   SEA    UNDER   THE   ALPS 67 

X.    A   SINGULAR    COUNCIL 71 

XI.     CAPTAIN   BASKELETT 78 

XII.  AN  INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  INFAMOUS  DR.  SHRAPNEL    .  90 

XIII.  A   SUPERFINE   CONSCIENCE 104 

XIV.  THE  LEADING  ARTICLE  AND  MR.  TIMOTHY  TURBOT       .  109 
XV.     CECILIA    HALKETT 121 

XVI.  A  PARTIAL  DISPLAY  OF  BEAUCHAMP  IN  HIS  COLOURS  .  131 

XVII.     HIS   FRIEND   AND   FOE 136 

XVIII.     CONCERNING   THE   ACT   OF   CANVASSING 148 

XIX.  LORD  PALMET,  AND  CERTAIN  ELECTORS  OF  BEVISHAM  153 

XX.    A   DAY   AT   ITCHINCOPE 170 

XXI.  THE    QUESTION     AS    TO    THE     EXAMINATION     OF    THE 
WHIGS,    AND     THE    FINE    BLOW     STRUCK     BY    MR. 

EVERARD    ROMFREY 182 


514203 


y 


vi  CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XXII.    THE   DRIVE   INTO   BEVISHAM 191 

XXIII.  TOURDE8TELLE 199 

XXIV.  HIS    HOLIDAY 207 

XXV.     THE   ADVENTURE   OF    THE    BOAT 217 

XXVI.    MR.    BLACKBURN   TUCKHAM 234 

XXVII.     A    SHORT    SIDELOOK   AT   THE   ELECTION     ....  244 
XXVIII.     TOUCHING     A     YOUNG     LADY's     HEART     AND     HER 

INTELLECT 249 

XXIX.    THE    EPISTLE    OF    DR.    SHRAPNEL   TO   COMMANDER 

BEAUCHAMP 264 

XXX.    THE   BAITING   OF   DR.    SHRAPNEL 275 

XXXI.    SHOWING      A     CHIVALROUS      GENTLEMAN     SET     IN 

MOTION 291 

XXXIL    AN  EFFORT  TO  CONQUER  CECILIA  IN  BEAUCHAMP'S 

FASHION 294 

XXXIII.  THE    FIRST    ENCOUNTER   AT    STEYNHAM     ....  306 

XXXIV.  THE    FACE    OF    REN:^E 316 

XXXV.     THE    RIDE    IN    THE   WRONG    DIRECTION       ....  322 

XXXVI.     PURSUIT    OF    THE     APOLOGY    OF    MR.    ROMFREY    TO 

DR.    SHRAPNEL 329 

XXXVII.     CECILIA    CONQUERED 341 

XXXVIII.    LORD   AVONLEY 354 

XXXIX.     BETWEEN    BEAUCHAMP    AND    CECILIA 362 

XL.     A    TRIAL    OF    HIM 371 

XLI.    A   LAME   VICTORY 383 

XLII.    THE   TWO   PASSIONS 388 

XLIII.     THE   EARL   OF   ROMFREY   AND    THE    COUNTESS    .       .  402 
XLIV.    THE   NEPHEWS  OF  THE  EARL,  AND  ANOTHER  EXHI- 
BITION  OF  THE    TWO   PASSIONS   IN   BEAUCHAMP  411 

XLV.    A   LITTLE   PLOT   AGAINST   CECILIA 422 

XLVI.      AS   IT   MIGHT   HAVE   BEEN   FORESEEN        ....  439 


CONTENTS  Vll 

CHAP.  PAOK 

XLVII.     THE    REFUSAL   OF    HIM 446 

XLVIII.    OF   THE    TRIAL   AWAITING   THE    EARL   OF   ROMFREY  454 

XLIX.    A   FABRIC   OF    BARONIAL   DESPOTISM   CRUMBLES  .      .  468 

L.    AT   THE   COTTAGE    ON   THE   COMMON 475 

LL    IN    THE   NIGHT 482 

LII.     QUESTION     OF     A     PILGRIMAGE      AND     AN     ACT     OF 

PENANCE 486 

LIII.    THE   APOLOGY   TO   DR.    SHRAPNEL 497 

LIV.    THE   FRUITS   OF   THE   APOLOGY 501 

LV.    WITHOUT   LOVE 509 

LVI.    THE   LAST   OF   NEVIL  BEAUCHAMP 514 


BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CHAMPION   OF    HIS    COUNTRY 

When  young  Nevil  Beauchamp  was  throwing  off  his  mid- 
shipman's jacket  for  a  holiday  in  the  garb  of  peace,  we  had 
across  Channel  a  host  of  dreadful  military  officers  flashing 
swords  at  us  for  some  critical  observations  of  ours  upon 
their  sovereign,  tJireatenmg  Afric's  fires  and  savagery. 
The  case  occurred  in  old  days  now  and  again,  sometimes, 
upon  imagined  provocation,  more  furiously  than  at  others. 
We  were  unarmed,  and  the  spectacle  was  distressing.  We 
had  done  nothing  except  to  speak  our  minds  according  to 
the  habit  of  the  free,  and  such  an  explosion  appeared  as 
irrational  and  excessive  as  that  of  a  powder-magazine  in 
reply  to  nothing  more  than  the  light  of  a  spark.  It  was 
known  that  a  valorous  General  of  the  Algerian  wars  pro- 
posed to  make  a  clean  march  to  the  capital  of  the  British 
empire  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand  men ;  which  seems  a 
small  quantity  to  think  much  about,  but  they  wore  wide 
red  breeches  blown  out  by  Fame,  big  as  her  cheeks,  and 
a  ten  thousand  of  that  sort  would  never  think  of  retreating. 
Their  spectral  advance  on  quaking  London  through  Kentish 
hop-gardens,  Sussex  corn-fields,  or  by  the  pleasant  hills  of 
Surrey,  after  a  gymnastic  leap  over  the  riband  of  salt 
water,  haunted  many  pillows.  And  now  those  horrid 
shouts  of  the  legions  of  Caesar,  crying  to  the  inheritor  of 
an  invading  name  to  lead  them  against  us,  as  the  origin 
of  his  title  had  led  the  army  of  Gaul  of  old  gloriously, 
scared  sweet  sleep.    We  saw  them  in  imagination  lining  the 

1 


2  '  Tt^ATJ^CJiAMP's  CABEER 

opposite;  fi)i;o.V(e.;,eagl^  and  standard-bearers,  and  gallifers, 
brandisliilig  tiieir  fowls  and  their  banners  in  a  manner  to 
frighten  the  decorum  of  the  universe.  Where  were  our 
men  ? 

The  returns  of  the  census  of  our  population  were  oppress- 
ively satisfactory,  and  so  was  the  condition  of  our  youth. 
We  could  row  and  ride  and  fish  and  shoot,  and  breed 
largely :  we  were  athletes  with  a  fine  history  and  a  full 
purse  :  we  had  first-rate  sporting  guns,  unrivalled  park- 
hacks  and  hunters,  promising  babies  to  carry  on  the  renown 
of  England  to  the  next  generation,  and  a  wonderful  Press, 
and  a  Constitution  the  highest  reach  of  practical  human 
sagacity.  But  where  were  our  armed  men  ?  where  our 
great  artillery  ?  where  our  proved  captains,  to  resist  a 
sudden  sharp  trial  of  the  national  mettle  ?  Where  was  the 
first  line  of  England's  defence,  her  navy  ?  These  were 
questions,  and  Ministers  were  called  upon  to  answer  them. 
The  Press  answered  them  boldly,  with  the  appalling  state- 
ment that  we  had  no  navy  and  no  army.  At  the  most  we 
could  muster  a  few  old  ships,  a  couple  of  experimental 
vessels  of  war,  and  twenty-five  thousand  soldiers  indiffer- 
ently weaponed. 

We  were  in  fact  as  naked  to  the  Imperial  foe  as  the 
merely  painted  Britons. 

This  being  apprehended,  by  the  aid  of  our  own  shortness 
of  figures  and  the  agitated  images  of  the  red-breeched  only 
waiting  the  signal  to  jump  and  be  at  us,  there  ensued  a 
curious  exhibition  that  would  be  termed,  in  simple  lan- 
guage, writing  to  the  newspapers,  for  it  took  the  outward 
form  of  letters :  in  reality,  it  was  the  deliberate  saddling 
of  our  ancient  nightmare  of  Invasion,  putting  the  postillion 
on  her,  and  trotting  her  along  the  high-road  with  a  winding 
horn  to  rouse  old  Panic.  Panic  we  will,  for  the  sake  of 
convenience,  assume  to  be  of  the  feminine  gender  and  a 
spinster,  though  properly  she  should  be  classed  with  the 
large  mixed  race  of  mental  and  moral  neuters  which  are 
the  bulk  of  comfortable  nations.  She  turned  in  her  bed  at 
first  like  the  sluggard  of  the  venerable  hymnist :  but  once 
fairly  awakened,  she  directed  a  stare  toward  the  terrific 
foreign  contortionists,  and  became  in  an  instant  all  stormy 
nightcap  and  fingers  starving  for  the  bell-rope.     Forthwith 


THE  CHAMPION   OF   HIS  COUNTRY  3 

she  burst  into  a  series  of  shrieks,  howls,  and  high  piercing 
notes  that  caused  even  the  parliamentary  Opposition^  in 
the  heat  of  an  assaujt  on  a  parsimonious  Government,  to 
"abandon  its  temporary  advantage  and  be  still  awhile.  Yet 
she  likewise  performed  her  part  with  a  certain  deliberation 
and  method,  as  if  aware  that  it  was  a  part  she  had  to  play- 
in  the  composition  of  a  singular  people.  She  did  a  little 
mischief  by  dropping  on  the  stock-markets  ;  in  other  re- 
spects she  was  harmless,  and,  inasmuch  as  she  established 
a  subject  for  conversation,  useful. 

Then,  lest  she  should  have  been  taken  too  seriously,  the 
Press,  which  had  kindled,  proceeded  to  extinguish  her  with 
the  formidable  engines  called  leading  articles,  which  fling 
fire  or  water,  as  the  occasion  may  require.  It  turned  out 
that  we  had  ships  ready  for  launching,  and  certain  regi- 
ments coming  home  from  India;  hedges  we  had,  and  a 
spirited  body  of  yeomanry ;  and  we  had  pluck  and  patriot- 
ism, the  father  and  mother  of  volunteers  innumerable. 
Things  were  not  so  bad. 

Panic,  however,  sent  up  a  plaintive  whine.  What  coun- 
try  had  anything  like  our  treasures  to  defend  ?  —  countless 
riches,  beautiful  women,  an  inviolate  soil !  True,  and  it 
must  be  done.  Ministers  were  authoritatively  summoned  to 
set  to  work  immediately.  They  replied  that  they  had  been 
at  work  all  the  time,  and  were  at  work  now.  They  could 
assure  the  country,  that  though  they  flourished  no  trum- 
pets, they  positively  guaranteed  the  safety  of  our  virgins 
and  coffers. 

Then  the  people,  rather  ashamed,  abused  the  Press  for 
unreasonably  disturbing  them.  The  Press  attacked  old 
Panic  and  stripped  her  naked.  Panic,  with  a  desolate 
scream,  arraigned  the  parliamentary  Opposition  for  having 
inflated  her  to  serve  base  party  purposes.  The  Opposition 
challenged  the  allegations  of  Government,  pointed  to  the 
trimness  of  army  and  navy  during  its.  term  of  office,  and 
proclaimed  itself  watch-dog  of  the  country,  which  is  at  all 
events  an  office  of  a  kind.  Hereupon  the  ambassador  of 
yonder  ireful  soldiery  let  fall  a  word,  saying,  by  the  faith 
of  his  Master,  there  was  no  necessity  for  watch-dogs  to 
bark;  an  ardent  and  a  reverent  army  had  but  fancied  its 
beloved  chosen  Chief  insulted ;  the  Chief  and  chosen  held 


4  BEAUCHAMP  S   CAREER 

them  in ;  he,  despite  obloquy,  discerned  our  merits  and  es- 
teemed us. 

So,  then,  Panic,  or  what  remained  of  her,  was  put  to  bed 
again.  The  Opposition  retired  into  its  kennel  growling. 
The  People  coughed  like  a  man  of  two  minds,  doubting 
whether  he  has  been  divinely  inspired  or  has  cut  a  ridicu- 
lous figure.  The  Press  interpreted  the  cough  as  a  warning 
to  Government ;,  and  Government  launched  a  big  ship  with 
hurrahs,  and  ordered  the  recruiting-sergeant  to  be  seen 
conspicuously. 

And  thus  we  obtained  a  moderate  reinforcement  of  our 
arms. 

It  was  not  arrived  at  by  connivance  all  round,  though 
there  was  a  look  of  it.  Certainly  it  did  not  come  of  acci- 
dent, though  there  was  a  look  of  that  as  well.  Nor  do  we 
explain  much  of  the  secret  by  attributing  it  to  the  working 
of  a  complex  machinery.  The  housewife's  remedy  of  a 
good  shaking  for  the  invalid  who  will  not  arise  and  dance 
away  his  gout,  partly  illustrates  the  action  of  the  Press 
upon  the  country:  and  perhaps  the  country  shaken  may 
suffer  a  comparison  with  the  family  chariot  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, built  in  a  previous  one,  commodious,  furnished  agree- 
ably, being  all  that  the  inside  occupants  could  require  of  a 
conveyance,  until  the  report  of  horsemen  crossing  the  heath 
at  a  gallop  sets  it  dishonourably  creaking  and  complaining 
in  rapid  motion,  and  the  squire  curses  his  miserly  purse 
that  would  not  hire  a  guard,  and  his  dame  says,  I  told  you 
so  !  —  Foolhardy  man,  to  suppose,  because  we  have  con- 
stables in  the  streets  of  big  cities,  we  have  dismissed  the 
highwayman  to  limbo.  And  here  he  is,  and  he  will  cost 
you  fifty  times  the  sum  you  would  have  laid  out  to  keep 
him  at  a  mile's  respectful  distance  !  But  see,  the  wretch 
is  bowing:  he  smiles  at  our  carriage,  and  tells  the  coach- 
man that  he  remembers  he  has  been  our  guest,  and  really 
thinks  we  need  not  go  so  fast.  He  leaves  word  for  you,  sir, 
on  your  peril  to  denounce  him  on  another  occasion  from  the 
magisterial  Bench,  for  that  albeit  he  is  a  gentleman  of  the 
road,  he  has  a  mission  to  right  society,  and  succeeds  legiti- 
mately to  that  bold  Good  Robin  Hood  who  fed  the  poor. — 
Presh  from  this  polite  encounter,  the  squire  vows  money 
for  his  personal  protection :  and  he  determines  to  speak  his 


THE  CHAMPION   OF   HIS   COUNTRY  5 

opinion  of  Sherwood's  latest  captain  as  loudly  as  ever. 
That  he  will,  I  do  not  say.  It  might  involve  a  large  sum 
per  annum. 

Similes  are  very  well  in  their  way.  None  can  be  suffi- 
cient in  this  case  without  levelling  a  finger  at  the  taxpayer 
—  nay,  directly  mentioning  him.  He  is  the  key  of  our 
ingenuity.  He  pays  his  dues  ;  he  will  not  pay  the  addi- 
tional penny  or  two  wanted  of  him,  that  we  may  be  a  step 
or  two  ahead  of  the  day  we  live  in,  unless  he  is  frightened. 
But  scarcely  anything  less  than  the  wild  alarum  of  a  tocsin 
will  frighten  him.  Consequently  the  tocsin  has  to  be 
sounded ;  and  the  effect  is  woeful  past  measure :  his  hug- 
ging of  his  army,  his  kneeling  on  the  shore  to  his  navy,  his 
implorations  of  his  yeomanry  and  his  hedges,  are  sad  to 
note.  His  bursts  of  pot-valiancy  (the  male  side  of  the 
maiden  Panic  within  his  bosom)  are  awful  to  his  friends. 
Particular  care  must  be  taken  after  he  has  begun  to  cool 
and  calculate  his  chances  of  security,  that  he  do  not  gather 
to  him  acu£taJ^jof_v^l^£^eersa  to  sleep  again  behind 

them  ;'T:or  they^cosFlIttle~TErpropbrtion  to  the  much  they 
pretend  to  be  to  him.  Patriotic  taxpayers  doubtless  exist : 
prophetic  ones,  provident  ones,  do  not.  At  least  we  show 
that  we  are  wanting  in  them.  The  taxpayer  of  a  free  land 
taxes  himself,  and  his  disinclination  for  the  bitter  task, 
save  under  circumstances  of  screaming  urgency  —  as  when 
the  night-gear  and  bed-linen  of  old  convulsed  Panic  are 
like  the  churned  Channel  sea  in  the  track  of  two  hundred 
hostile  steamboats,  let  me  say  —  is  of  the  kind  the  gentle 
schoolboy  feels  when  death  or  an  expedition  has  relieved 
him  of  his  tyrant,  and  he  is  entreated  notwithstanding  to 
go  to  his  books. 

Will  you  not  own  that  the  working  of  the  system  for 
scaring  him  and  bleeding  is  very  ingenious  ?  But  whether 
the  ingenuity  comes  of  native  sagacity,  as  it  is  averred  by 
some,  or  whether  it  shows  an  instinct  labouring  to  supply 
the  deficiencies  of  stupidity,  according  to  others,  I  cannot 
express  an  opinion.  I  give  you  the  position  of  the  country 
undisturbed  by  any  moralizings  of  mine.  The  youth  I 
introduce  to  you  will  rarely  let  us  escape  from  it;  for  the 
reason  that  hejvas  born  with  so  extreme  and  passionate  a 
love  for  his  country,  that  he  thought  all  things~else  of  mean 


6  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

importance  in  comparison :  and  our  union  is  one  in  which, 
following  the  counsel  of  a  sage  and  seer,  I  must  try  to 
paint  for  you  what  is,  not  that  which  I  imagine.  This  day, 
this  hour,  this  life,  and  even  politics,  the  centre  and  throb- 
bing heart  of  it  (enough,  when  unburlesqued,  to  blow  the 
down  off  the  gossamer-stump  of  fiction  at  a  single  breath,  I 
have  heard  tell),  must  be  treated  of :  men ,  and  the  ideas  of 
men,  which  are  —  it  is  policy  to  be  emphatic  upon  truisms 
—  are  actually  the  motives  of  men  in  a  greater  degree  than 
their  appetites  :  these  are  my  theme ;  and  may  it  be  my 
fortune  to  keep  them  at  blood-heat,  and  myself  calm  as  a 
statue  of  Memnon  in  prostrate  Egypt !  He  sits  there  wait- 
ing for  the  sunlight ;  I  here,  and  readier  to  be  musical  than 
you  think.  I  can  at  any  rate  be  impartial ;  and  do  but  fix 
your  eyes  on  the  sunlight  striking  him  and  swallowing  the 
day  in  rounding  him,  and  you  have  an  image  of  the  passive 
receptivity  of  shine  and  shade  I  hold  it  good  to  aim  at,  if 
at  the  same  time  I  may  keep  my  characters  at  blood-heat. 
I  shoot  my  arrows  at  a  mark  that  is  pretty  certain  to  return 
them  to  me.  And  as  to  perfect  success,  I  should  be  like 
the  panic-stricken  shopkeepers  in  my  alarm  at  it ;  for  I 
should  believe  that  genii  of  the  air  fly  above  our  tree-tops 
between  us  and  the  incognizable  spheres,  catching  those 
ambitious  shafts  they  deem  it  a  promise  of  fun  to  play 
pranks  with. 

Young  Mr.  Beauchamp  at  that  period  of  the  panic  had 
not  the  slightest  feeling  for  the  taxpayer.  He  was  there- 
fore unable  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  our  roundabout  way 
of  enlivening  him.  He  pored  over  the  journals  in  per- 
plexity, and  talked  of  his  indignation  nightly  to  his  pretty 
partners  at  balls,  who  knew  not  they  were  lesser  An- 
dromedas  of  his  dear  Andromeda  country,  but  danced  and 
chatted  and  were  gay,  and  said  they  were  sure  he  would 
defend  them.  The  men  he  addressed  were  civil.  They 
listened  to  him,  sometimes  with  smiles  and  sometimes  with 
laughter,  but  approvingly,  liking  the   lad's   quick   spirit. 

JThey  were  accustomed  to  the  machinery  employed  to  give 
our  land  a  shudder  and  to  soothe  it,  and  generally  remarked 
that  it  meant  nothing.  His  uncle  Everard,  and  his  uncle's 
friend  Stukely  Culbrett,  expounded  the  nature  of  French- 


THE  CHAMPION   OF  HIS   COUNTRY  T 

men  to  him,  saying  that  they  were  uneasy  when  not  period- 
icall2;^thrashed ;  itwould  be  cruel  to  deny  them  their  crow 
l)eforeh^Lnd7and  so  the  pair  of  gentlemen  pooh-poohed  the 
affair;  agreeing  with  him,  however,  that  we  had  no  great 
reason  to  be  proud  of  our  appearance,  and  the  grounds  they 
assigned  for  this  were  the  activity  and  the  prevalence  of 
the  ignoble  doctrines  of  Manchester  —  a  power  whose  very 
existence  was  unknown  to  Mr.  Beauchamp.  He  would  by 
no  means  allow  the  burden  of  our  national  disgrace  to  be 
cast  on  one  part  of  the  nation.  We  were  insulted,  and  all 
in  a  poultry-flutter,  yet  no  one  seemed  to  feel  it  but  himself ! 
Outside  the  Press  and  Parliament,  which  must  necessarily 
be  the  face  we  show  to  the  foreigner,  absolute  indifference 
reigned.  Navy  men  and  red-coats  were  willing  to  join  him 
or  anybody  in  sneers  at  a  clipping  and  paring  miserly 
Government,  but  they  were  insensible  to  the  insult,  the 
panic,  the  startled-poultry  show,  the  shame  of  our  exhibi- 
tion of  ourselves  in  Europe.  It  looked  as  if  the  blustering 
French  Guard  were  to  have  it  all  their  own  way.  And 
what  would  they,  what  could  they  but,  think  of  us  !  He 
sat  down  to  write  them  a  challenge. 

He  is  not  the  only  Englishman  who  has  been  impelled  by 
a  youthful  chivalry  to  do  that.  He  is  perhaps  the  youngest 
who  ever  did  it,  and  consequently  there  were  various  diffi- 
culties to  be  overcome.  As  regards  his  qualifications  fon 
addressing  Frenchmen,  a  year  of  his  prse-neptunal  time  had( 
been  spent  in  their  capital  city  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring/ 
French  of  Paris,  its  latest  refinements  of  pronunciation  and 
polish,  and  the  art  of  conversing.  He  had  read  the  French 
tragic  poets  and  Moliere ;  he  could  even  relish  the  Gallic- 
classic  —  "  Qu'il  mourut ! "  and  he  spoke  French  passably, 
being  quite  beyond  the  Bullish  treatment  of  the  tongue. 
Writing  a  letter  in  French  was  a  different  undertaking. 
The  one  he  projected  bore  no  resemblance  to  an  ordinary 
letter.  The  briefer  the  better,  of  course ;  but  a  tone  of 
dignity  was  imperative,  and  the  tone  must  be  individual, 
distinctive,  Nevil  Beauchamp's,  though  not  in  his  native 
language.  First  he  tried  his  letter  in  French,  and  lost  sight 
of  himself  completely.  "  Messieurs  de  la  Garde  Franqaise," 
was  a  good  beginning ;  the  remainder  gave  him  a  false  air 
of  a  masquerader,  most  uncomfortable  to  see  ;  it  was  Nevil 


8  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Beauchamp  in  moustache  and  imperial,  and  bag-breeches 
badly  fitting.  He  tried  English,  which  was  really  himself, 
and  all  that  heart  could  desire,  supposing  he  addressed  a 
body  of  midshipmen  just  a  little  loftily.  But  the  English, 
when  translated,  was  bald  and  blunt  to  the  verge  of  offen- 
siveness. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  French  Guard, 

"I  take  up  the  glove  you  have  tossed  us.     I  am  an 
Englishman.     That  will  do  for  a  reason." 

This  might  possibly  pass  with  the  gentlemen  of  the 
English  Guard.     But  read  :  — 

"Messieurs  de  la  Garde  Fran^aise, 

"  J'accepte  votre  gant.     Je   suis  Anglais.     La  raison 
est  suffisante." 

And  imagine  French  Guardsmen  reading  it !  , 

Mr.  Beauchamp  knew  the  virtue  of  punctiliousness  in 
epithets  and  phrases  of  courtesy  toward  a  formal  people, 
and  as  the  officers  of  the  French  Guard  were  gentlemen  of 
birth,  he  would  have  them  to  perceive  in  him  their  equal  at 
a  glance.  On  the  other  hand,  a  bare  excess  of  phrasing  dis- 
torted him  to  a  likeness  of  Mascarille  playing  Marquis, 
How  to  be  English  and  think  French !  The  business  was 
as  laborious  as  if  he  had  started  on  the  rough  sea  of  the 
Channel  to  get  at  them  in  an  open  boat. 

The  lady  governing  his  uncle  Everard's  house,  Mrs. 
Bosamund  Culling,  entered  his  room  and  found  him  writing 
with  knitted  brows.  She  was  young,  that  is,  she  was  not  in 
her  middle-age ;  and  they  were  the  dearest  of  friends ;  each 
had  given  the  other  proof  of  it.  Nevil  looked  up  and 
beheld  her  lifted  finger. 

"  You  are  composing  a  love-letter,  Nevil !  "  The  accusa- 
tion sounded  like  irony. 

"  No,"  said  he,  puffing ;  "  I  wish  I  were." 

"  What  can  it  be,  then  ?  " 

He  thrust  pen  and  paper  a  hand's  length  on  the  table, 
and  gazed  at  her. 

"  My  dear  Nevil,  is  it  really  anything  serious  ?  "  said  she. 

"  I  am  writing  French,  ma'am." 


THE  CHA]VIPION  OF   HIS   COUNTRY  9 

'♦  Then  I  may  help  you.  It  must  be  very  absorbing,  for 
you  did  not  hear  my  knock  at  your  door." 

Now,  could  he  trust  her  ?  The  widow  of  a  British  officer 
killed  nobly  fighting  for  his  country  in  India,  was  a  person 
to  be  relied  on  for  active  and  burning  sympathy  in  a  matter 
that  touched  the  country's  honour.  She  was  a  woman,  and 
a  woman  of  spirit.  Men  had  not  pleased  him  of  late. 
Something  might  be  hoped  from  a  woman. 

He  stated  his  occupation,  saying  that  if  she  would  assist 
him  in  his  French  she  would  oblige  him ;  the  letter  must 
be  written  and  must  go.  This  was  uttered  so  positively 
that  she  bowed  her  head,  amused  by  the  funny  semi-tone  of 
defiance  to  the  person  to  whom  he  confided  the  secret.  She 
had  humour,  and  was  ravished  by  his  English  boyishness, 
with  the  novel  blush  of  the  heroical-nonsensical  in  it. 

Mrs.  Culling  promised  him  demurely  that  she  would 
listen,  objecting  nothing  to  his  plan,  only  to  his  French. 

"  Messieurs  de  la  Garde  Franqaise  !  "  he  commenced. 

Her  criticism  followed  swiftly. 

"  I  think  you  are  writing  to  the  Garde  Imperiale." 

He  admitted  his  error,  and  thanked  her  warmly. 

"  Messieurs  de  la  Garde  Imperiale ! " 

"  Does  not  that,"  she  said,  "  include  the  non-commissioned 
officers,  the  privates,  and  the  cooks,  of  all  the  regiments  ?  " 

He  could  scarcely  think  that,  but  thought  it  provoking 
the  French  had  no  distinctive  working  title  corresponding  to 
gentlemen,  and  suggested  "  Messieurs  les  Officiers  : "  which 
might,  Mrs.  Culling  assured  him,  comprise  the  barbers.  He 
frowned,  and  she  prescribed  his  writing,  "Messieurs  les 
Colonels  de  la  Garde  Imperiale."  This  he  set  down.  The 
point  was  that  a  stand  must  be  made  against  the  flood  of 
sarcasms  and  bullyings  to  which  the  country  was  exposed  in 
increasing  degrees,  under  a  belief  that  we  would  fight  neither 
in  the  mass  nor  individually.  Possibly,  if  it  became  known 
that  the  colonels  refused  to  meet  a  midshipman,  the  gentle- 
men of  our  Household  troops  would  advance  a  step. 

Mrs.  Culling's  adroit  efforts  to  weary  him  out  of  his  pro- 
ject were  unsuccessful.  He  was  too  much  on  fire  to  know 
the  taste  of  absurdity. 

Nevil  repeated  what  he  had  written  in  French,  and  next 
the  English  of  what  he  intended  to  say. 


10 

The  lady  conscientiously  did  her  utmost  to  reconcile  the 
two  languages.  She  softened  his  downrightness,  passed 
with  approval  his  compliments  to  France  and  the  ancient 
high  reputation  of  her  army,  and,  seeing  that  a  loophole 
was  left  for  them  to  apologize,  asked  how  many  French 
colonels  he  wanted  to  fight. 

^'  I  do  not  want,  ma'am,"  said  Nevil. 

He  had  simply  taken  up  the  glove  they  had  again  flung 
at  our  feet :  and  he  had  done  it  to  stop  the  incessant  revil- 
ings,  little  short  of  positive  contempt,  which  we  in  our 
indolence  exposed  ourselves  to  from  the  foreigner,  par- 
ticularly from  Frenchmen,  whom  he  liked;  and  precisely 
because  he  liked  them  he  insisted  on  forcing  them  to 
respect  us.  Let  his  challenge  be  accepted,  and  he  would 
find  backers.  He  knew  the  stuff  of  Englishmen :  they  only 
required  an  example. 

"  French  officers  are  skilful  swordsmen, '^  said  Mrs. 
Culling.  "  My  husband  has  told  me  they  will  spend  hours 
of  the  day  thrusting  and  parrying.  They  are  used  to 
duelling." 

"We,"  Nevil  answered,  ''don't  get  apprenticed  to  the 
shambles  to  learn  our  duty  on  the  field.  Duelling  is,  I 
know,  sickening  folly.  We  go  too  far  in  pretending  to 
despise  every  insult  pitched  at  us.  A  man  may  do  for  his 
country  what  he  would  n't  do  for  himself." 

Mrs.   Culling   gravely   said   she   hoped   that   bloodshed 
would  be  avoided,  and  Mr.  Beauchamp  nodded. 
She  left  him  hard  at  work. 

He  was  a  popular  boy,  a  favourite  of  women,  and  there- 
fore full  of  engagements  to  Balls  and  dinners.  And  he  was 
a  modest  boy,  though  his  uncle  encouraged  him  to  deliver 
his  opinions  freely  and  argue  with  men.  The  little  drummer 
attached  to  wheeling  columns  thinks  not  more  of  himself 
because  his  short  legs  perform  the  same  strides  as  the 
grenadiers' ;  he  is  happy  to  be  able  to  keep  the  step ;  and 
so  was  Nevil ;  and  if  ever  he  contradicted  a  senior,  it  was 
in  the  interests  of  the  country.  Veneration  of  heroes,  living 
and  dead,  kept  down  his  conceit.  He  worshippp.rl  dfivntftrlly. 
From  an  early  age  he  exacted  of  his  flattering  ladies  that 
they  must  love  his  hero.  Not  to  Tove  his  hero  was  to  be 
sfcrangely  in  error,  to  be  in  need  of  conversion,"  aiid'heprose' 


THE   CHA^EPION   OF   HIS   COUNTRY  11 

lytized  with  the  ardour  of  the  Moslem.  His  uncle  Everard 
was  proud  of  his  good  looks,  fire,  and  nonsense,  during  the 
boy's  extreme  youth.  He  traced  him  by  cousinships  back 
to  the  great  Earl  Beauchamp  of  Froissart,  and  would  have 
it  so ;  and  he  would  have  spoilt  him  had  not  the  young 
fellow's  mind  been  possessed  by  his  reverence  for  men  of 
deeds.  How  could  he  think  of  himself,  who  had  done 
nothing,  accomplished  nothing,  so  long  as  he  brooded  on  the 
images  of  signal  Englishmen  whose  names  were  historic  for 
daring,  and  the  strong  arm,  and  artfulness,  all  given  to  the 
service  of  the  country  ?  —  men  of  a  magnanimity  overcast 
with  simplicity,  which  Nevil  held  to  be  pure  insular  Eng- 
lish ;  our  type  of  splendid  manhood,  not  discoverable  else- 
where. A  method  of  enraging  him  was  to  distinguish  one 
or  other  of  them  as  Irish,  Scottish,  or  Cambrian.  He  consid- 
ered it  a  dismemberment  of  the  country.  And  notwithstand- 
ing the  pleasure  he  had  in  uniting  in  his  person  the  strong 
red  blood  of  the  chivalrous  Lord  Beauchamp  with  the  hard 
and  tenacious  Eomfrey  blood,  he  hated  the  title  of  iSTorman. 
We  are  English  —  British,  he  said.  A  family  resting  its 
pride  on  mere  ancestry  provoked  his  contempt,  if  it  did  not 
show  him  one  of  his  men.  He  had  also  a  disposition  to 
esteem  lightly  the  family  which,  having  produced  a  man, 
settled  down  after  that  effort  for  generations  to  enjoy  the 
country's  pay.  Boys  are  unjust;  but  Nevil  thought  of 
the  country  mainly,  arguing  that  he  should  not  accept  the 
country's  money  for  what  we  do  not  ourselves  perform. 
These  traits  of  his  were  regarded  as  characteristics  hopeful 
rather  than  the  reverse  ;  none  of  his  friends  and  relatives 
foresaw  danger  in  them.  He  was  a  capital  boy  for  his 
elders  to  trot  out  and  banter. 

Mrs.  Rosamund  Culling  usually  went  to  his  room  to  see 
him  and  doat  on  hira  before  he  started  on  his  rounds  of  an 
evening.  She  suspected  that  his  necessary  attention  to  his 
toilet  would  barely  have  allowed  him  time  to  finish  his  copy 
of  the  letter.  Certain  phrases  had  bothered  him.  The 
thrice  recurrence  of  "  ma  patrie  "  jarred  on  his  ear.  ''  Senti- 
ments "  afflicted  his  acute  sense  of  the  declamatory  twice. 
"  C'est  avec  les  sentiments  du  plus  profoud  regret : "  and 
again,  "  Je  suis  bien  stir  que  vous  comprendrez  mes  senti- 
ments, et  m'accorderez  I'honneur  que  je  reclame  au  nom  de 


12  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

ma  patrie  outragee."  The  word  "  patrie  "  was  broadcast  over 
the  letter,  and  "  honneur  "  appeared  four  times,  and  a  more 
delicate  word  to  harp  on  than  the  others  ! 

"Not  to  Frenchmen,"  said  his  friend  Eosamund.  "I 
would  put  *  Je  suis  convaiucu : '  it  is  not  so  familiar." 

"  But  I  have  written  out  the  fair  copy,  ma'am,  and  that 
alteration  seems  a  trifle." 

"  I  would  copy  it  again  and  again,  Nevil,  to  get  it  right." 

"  No :  I  ^d  rather  see  it  off  than  have  it  right,"  said  Nevil, 
and  he  folded  the  letter. 

How  the  deuce  to  address  it,  and  what  direction  to  write 
on  it,  were  further  difficulties.  He  had  half  a  mind  to 
remain  at  home  to  conquer  them  by  excogitation. 

Eosamund  urged  him  not  to  break  his  engagement  to  dine 
at  the  Halketts',  where  perhaps  from  his  friend  Colonel 
Halkett,  who  would  never  imagine  the  reason  for  the 
inquiry,  he  might  learn  how  a  letter  to  a  crack  French 
regiment  should  be  addressed  and  directed. 

This  proved  persuasive,  and  as  the  hour  was  late  Nevil 
had  to  act  on  her  advice  in  a  hurry. 

His  uncle  Everard  enjoyed  a  perusal  of  the  manuscript 
in  his  absence. 


CHAPTEE  II 

UNCLE,  NEPHEW,  AND  ANOTHER 

The  Honourable  Everard  Eomfrey  came  of  a  race  of 
fighting  earls,  toughest  of  men,  whose  high,  stout,  Western 
castle  had  weathered  our  cyclone  periods  of  history  without 
changing  hands  more  than  once,  and  then  but  for  a  short 
year  or  two,  as  if  to  teach  the  original  possessors  the  wisdom 
of  inclining  to  the  stronger  side.  They  had  a  queen's 
chamber  in  it,  and  a  king's ;  and  they  stood  well  up  against 
the  charge  of  having  dealt  darkly  with  the  king.  He  died 
among  them  —  how  has  not  been  told.  We  will  not  discuss 
the  conjectures  here.  A  savour  of  North  Sea  foam  and 
ballad  pirates  hangs  about  the  early  chronicles  of  the 
family.    Indications  of  an  ancestry  that  had  lived  between 


UNCLE,   NEPHEW,   AND   ANOTHER  13 

the  wave  and  the  cloud  were  discernible  in  their  notions  of 
right  and  wrong.     But  a  settlement  on  solid  earth  has  its 
influences.     They  were  chivalrous  knights  bannerets,  and 
leaders  in  the  tented  field,  paying  and  taking  fair  ransom  , 
for  captures ;  and  they  were  good  landlords,  good  masters 
blithely  followed  to  the  wars.     Sing  an  old  battle  of  Nor- 
mandy, Picardy,  Gascony,  and  you  celebrate  deeds  of  theirs. 
At  home  they  were  vexatious  neighbours   to  a  town  of 
burghers  claiming  privileges  :  nor  was  it  unreasonable  that 
the  Earl  should  flout  the  pretensions  of  the  town  to  read 
things  for  themselves,  documents,  titleships,  rights,  and 
the  rest.     As  well  might  the  flat  plain  boast  of  seeing  as 
far  as  the  pillar.     Earl  and  town  fought  the  fight  of  Barons    t^ 
and  Commons  in  epitome.     The  Earl  gave  way ;  the  Barons 
gave  way.     Mighty  men  may  thrash  numbers  for  a  time  ;|^ 
in  the  end  the  numbers  will  be  thrashed  into  the  art  of  f 
Beating  tkeir  teachers,     it  is  b9.d  'policy  to  liglit  ihe  odds » 
inch  by  inch.     Those  primitive  schoolmasters  of  the  million 
liked  it,  and  took  their  pleasure  in  that  way.     The  Romf reys 
did  not  breed  warriors  for  a  parade  at  Court ;  wars,  though 
frequent,  were  not  constant,  and  they  wanted  occupation: 
they   may  even   have   felt  that  they  were   bound   in  no 
common  degree  to  the  pursuit  of  an  answer  to  what  may 
be  called   the   parent   question  of   humanity :    Am  I   thy 
master,  or   thou  mine  ?     They   put   it   to   lords  of   other 
castles,  to   town  corporations,  and  sometimes  brother   to 
brother:  and  notwithstanding  that  the  answer  often  un- 
seated and  once  discastled  them,  they  swam  back  to  their 
places,  as^born  warriors,  urged  by  a  passion  for  land,  are 
algiost  sure  to  do ;  are  indeed  quite  sure,  so  long  as  they 
multiply  ~stuf3ily7  and  will  never  take  no  from  Fortune. 
A  faraijy^^passion  for  land,  that  survives^  a  generation_^is  as") 
effective  as  genius^ jjajroducing  the  ohjp.o.t  it  c^nngives  ;l 
and^  through  marriages  and  conflicts,  the  seizure  of  lands,  i 
and   brides    bearing   land,  these   sharp-feeding   eagle-eyed  I 
Earls  of  Romfrey  spied  few  spots  within  their  top  tower's  f 
wide  circle  of  the  heavens  not  their  own.  • 

It  is  therefore  manifest  that  they  had  the  root  qualities, 
the   prime    active    elements,   of   men   in   perfection,    and) 
notably  that  appetite  to  flourish  at  the  cost  ot  tlie  weaker,  r 
which  is  the  blessed  exemplification  of  strength,  and  has  | 


14 

been  man's  cheerfulest  encouragement  to  fight  on  since  his 
comparative  subjugation  (on  the  whole,  it  seems  complete) 
of  the  animal  world.  By-and-by  the  struggle  is  trans- 
ferred to  higher  ground,  and  we  begin  to  perceive  how 
much  we  are  indebted  to  the  fighting  spirit.  Strength  is 
'^h.Q  brute  form  of  truth.  No  conspicuously  great  man  was 
born  of  the  Eomfreys,  who  were  better  served  by  a  succes- 
sion of  able  sons.  They  sent  undistinguished  able  men  to 
army  and  navy  —  lieutenants  given  to  be  critics  of  their 
captains,  but  trustworthy  for  their  work.  In  the  later  life 
of  the  family,  they  preferred  the  provincial  state  of  splen- 
did squires  to  Court  and  political  honours.  They  were 
renowned  shots,  long-limbed  stalking  sportsmen  in  field 
and  bower,  fast  friends,  intemperate  enemies,  handsome 
to  feminine  eyes,  resembling  one  another  in  build,  and 
mostly  of  the  Northern  colour,  or  betwixt  the  tints,  with 
an  hereditary  nose  and  mouth  that  cried  Romfrey  frOBi 
faces  thrice  diluted  in  cousinships. 

The  Hon.  Everard  (Stephen  Denely  Craven  Romfrey), 
third  son  of  the  late  Earl,  had  some  hopes  of  the  title, 
.and  was  in  person  a  noticeable  gentleman,  in  mind  a 
/mediaeval  baron,  in  politics  a  crotchety  unintelligible 
J  Whig.  He  inherited  the  estate  of  Holdesbury,  on  the 
borders  of  Hampshire  and  Wilts,  and  espoused  that  of 
Steynham  in  Sussex,  where  he  generally  resided.  His 
favourite  in  the  family  had  been  the  Lady  Emily,  his 
eldest  sister,  who,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  her  other 
brothers  and  sisters,  had  yielded  her  hand  to  his  not 
wealthy  friend,  Colonel  Richard  Beauchamp.  After  the 
death  of  Nevil's  parents,  he  adopted  the  boy,  being  him- 
self childless,  and  a  widower.  Childlessness  was  the 
affliction  of  the  family.  Everard,  having  no  son,  could 
hardly  hope  that  his  brother  the  Earl,  and  Craven,  Lord 
Avonley,  would  have  one,  for  he  loved  the  prospect  of  the 
title.  Yet,  as  there  were  no  cousins  of  the  male  branch 
extant,  the  lack  of  an  heir  was  a  serious  omission,  and  to 
become  the  Earl  of  Romfrey,  and  be  the  last  Earl  of  Rom- 
frey, was  a  melancholy  thought,  however  brilliant.  So 
sinks  the  sun :  but  he  could  not  desire  the  end  of  a  great 

!day.     At  one  time  he  was  a  hot  Parliamentarian,  calling 
himself  a  Whig,  called  by  the  Whigs  a  Radical,  called  by 


UNCLE,   NEPHEW,   AND   ANOTHER  15 

the  Eadicals  a  Tory,  and  very  happy  in  fighting  them  all 
round.  This  was  during  the  decay  of  his  party,  before  the 
Liberals  were  defined.  A  Liberal  deprived  him  of  the  seat 
he  had  held  for  fifteen  years,  and  the  clearness  of  his 
understanding  was  obscured  by  that  black  vision  of  popular] 
ingratitude  which  afflicts  the  free  fighting  man  yet  more] 
than  the  malleable  public  servant.  The  latter  has  a  clerkly 
humility  attached  to  him  like  a  second  nature,  from  his 
habit  of  doing  as  others  bid  him:  the  former  smacks  a 
voluntarily  sweating  forehead  and  throbbing  wounds  for 
witness  of  his  claim  upon  your  palpable  thankfulness. 
It  is  an  insult  to  tell  him  that  he  fought  for  his  own  satis- 
faction. Mr.  Romfrey  still  called  himself  a  Whig,  though 
it  was  Whig  mean  vengeance  on  account  of  his  erratic 
vote  and  voice  on  two  or  three  occasions  that  denied  him  a 
peerage  and  a  seat  in  haven.  Thither  let  your  good  sheep 
go,  your  echoes,  your  wag-tail  dogs,  your  wealthy  pursy 
manufacturers!  He  decried  the  attractions  of  the  sub- 
limer  House,  and  laughed  at  the  transparent  Whiggery  of 
his  party  in  replenishing  it  from  the  upper  shoots  of  the 
commonalty :  "  Dragging  it  down  to  prop  it  up !  swamping 
it  to  keep  it  swimming!  "  he  said. 

He  was  nevertheless  a  vehement  supporter  of  that  House. 
He  stood  for  King,  Lords,  and  Commons,  in  spite  of  his 
personal  grievances,  harping  the  triad  as  vigorously  as 
bard  of  old  Britain.  Commons  he  added  out  of  courtesy, 
or  from  usage  or  policy,  or  for  emphasis,  or  for  the  sake 
of  the  Constitutional  number  of  the  Estates  of  the  realm, 
or  it  was  because  he  had  an  intuition  of  the  folly  of  omit- 
ting them;  the  same,  to  some  extent,  that  builders  have 
regarding  bricks  when  they  plan  a  fabric.  Thus,  although 
King  and  Lords  prove  the  existence  of  Commons  in  days 
of  the  political  deluge  almost  syllogistically,  the  example 
of  not  including  one  of  the  Estates  might  be  imitated,  and 
Commons  and  King  do  not  necessitate  the  conception  of 
an  intermediate  third,  while  Lords  and  Commons  suggest 
the  decapitation  of  the  leading  figure.  The  united  three, 
however,  no  longer  cast  reflections  on  one  another,  and 
were  an  assurance  to  this  acute  politician  that  his  birds 
were  safe.  He  preserved  game  rigorously,  and  the  de- 
duction was  the  work  of  instinct  with  him.     To  his  mind 


16  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

the  game-laws  were  the  corner-stone  of  Law,  and  of  a 
man's  right  to  hold  his  own;  and  so  delicately  did  he 
think  the  country  poised,  that  an  attack  on  them  threatened 
the  structure  of  Justice.  The  three  conjoined  Estates 
were  therefore  his  head  gamekeepers;  their  duty  was 
to  back  him  against  the  poacher,  if  they  would  not  see 
the  country  tumble.  As  to  his  under-gamekeepers,  he 
was  their  intimate  and  their  friend,  saying,  with  none 
of  the  misanthropy  which  proclaims  the  virtues  of  the 
faithful  dog  to  the  confusion  of  humankind,  he  liked 
their  company  better  than  that  of  his  equals,  and  learnt 
more  from  them.  They  also  listened  deferentially  to 
their  instructor. 

The  conversation  he  delighted  in  most  might  have  been 
gomgon  m  any  century  since  the  Conquest.  Grant  him 
his  not  unreasonable  argument  upon  his  property  in  game, 
he  was  a  liberal  landlord.  No  tenants  were  forced  to  take 
his  farms.  He  dragged  none  by  the  collar.  He  gave  them 
liberty  to  go  to  Australia,  Canada,  the  Americas,  if  they 
liked.  He  asked  in  return  to  have  the  liberty  to  shoot  on 
his  own  grounds,  and  rear  the  marks  for  his  shot,  treating 
the  question  of  indemnification  as  a  gentleman  should. 
Still  there  were  grumbling  tenants.  He  swarmed  with 
game,  and,  though  he  was  liberal,  his  hares  and  his  birds 
were  immensely  destructive :  computation  could  not  fix  the 
damage  done  by  them.  Probably  the  farmers  expected 
them  not  to  eat.  "There  are  two  parties  to  a  bargain," 
said  Everard,  "and  one  gets  the  worst  of  it.  But  if  he 
was  never  obliged  to  make  it,  where  's  his  right  to  com- 
plain ?"  Men  of  sense  rarely  obtain  satisfactory  answers: 
they  are  provoked  to  despise  their  kind.  But  the  poacher 
I  was  another  kind  of  vermin  than  the  stupid  tenant. 
Everard  did  him  the  honour  to  hate  him,  and  twice  in  a 
I  fray  had  he  collared  his  rufiian,  and  subsequently  sat  in 
condemnation  of  the  wretch :  for  he  who  can  attest  a 
vijlany  is  best  qualified  to  punish  it.  ~Gangs  from  ihe 
metropSliT'fnTind^im  too  determined  and  alert  for  their 
sport.  It  was  the  fractiousness  of  here  and  there  an  un- 
broken young  scoundrelly  colt  poacher  of  the  neighbour- 
hood, a  born  thief,  a  fellow  damned  in  an  inveterate  taste 
for  game,  which  gave  him  annoyance.     One  night  he  took 


UNCLE,  NEPHEW,  AND  ANOTHER        17 

Master  Nevil  out  with  him,  and  they  hunted  down  a 
couple  of  sinners  that  showed  fight  against  odds.  Nevil 
attempted  to  beg  them  off  because  of  their  boldness.  "  I 
don't  set  my  traps  for  nothing,"  said  his  uncle,  silencing 
him.  But  the  boy  reflected  that  his  uncle  was  perpetually 
lamenting  the  cowed  spirit_oi_the  common  English  —  for- 
merly sucli  fresh  and  merry  men!  He  touched  Rosamund 
Culling's  heart  with  his  description  of  their  attitudes 
when  they  stood  resisting  and  bawling  to  the  keepers, 
"Come  on  !  we  '11  die  for  it."  They  did  not  die.  Everardi 
explained  to  the  boy  that  he  could  have  killed  them,  and? 
was  contented  to  have  sent  them  to  gaol  for  a  few  weeks.  • 
Nevil  gaped  at  the  empty  magnanimity  which  his  uncle 
presented  to  him  as  a  remarkably  big  morsel.     At  the  age*- 

/of  fourteen  he  was  despatched  to  sea. 

He  went  unwillingly;  not  so  much  from  an  objection  to) 
a  naval  life  as  from  a  wish,  incomprehensible  to  grown  i 
men  and  boys,  and  especially  to  his  cousin,  Cecil  Baskelett, ' 
that  he  might^remain  at  school  g.nd  learn.  "The  fellow 
would  like  to  be  a  parson !  "  Everard  said  in  disgust.  No 
parson  had  ever  been  known  of  in  the  Romfrey  family,  or 
in  the  Beauchamp.  A  legend  of  a  parson  that  had  been  a 
tutor  in  one  of  the  Romfrey  houses,  and  had  talked  and 
sung  blandly  to  a  damsel  of  the  blood  —  degenerate  maid  ! 
—  to  receive  a  handsome  trouncing  for  his  pains,  instead  of 
the  holy  marriage-tie  he  aimed  at,  was  the  only  connection 
of  the  Romfreys  with  the  parsonry,  as  Everard  called 
them.  He  attributed  the  boy's  feeling  to  the  influence  of 
his  great-aunt  Beauchamp,  who  would,  he  said,  infallibly 
have  made  a  parson  of  him.  "I  'd  rather  enlist  for  a  sol- 
dier," Nevil  said,  and  he  ceased  to  dream  of  rebellion,  and 
of  his  little  property  of  a  few  thousand  pounds  in  the 
Funds  to  aid  him  in  it.  He  confessed  to  his  dear  friend 
Rosamund  Culling  that  he  thought  the  parsons  happy  in 
having  time  to  read  history.  And  oh,  to  feel  for  certain 
vjhich  side  was  the  wrong  side  m  our  Civil  War,  so  that 

\one  should  not  hesitate  m  choosing  !  Such  puzzles  are 
never,  lie  seemed  to  be  aware,  solved  in  a  midshipman's 
mess.  Hehatedbloodshed,  and  was  guilty  of  the  *  cotton- 
spinners '*5aBBle7^'Bhorred  of  Everard,  in  alluding  to  it. 
Rosamund  likedJiimior  his  humanity ;  but  she,  too,  feared 


18  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

he  was  a  slack  Eomfrey  when  she  heard  him  speak  in  pre- 
cocious  contempt  of  glory.  Somewhere,  somehow,  he  had 
got  hold  of  Manchester  sarcasms  concerning  glory :  a  weedy 
word  of  the  newspapers  had  been  sown  in  his  bosom  per- 
(haps.  He  said:  "I  don't  care  to  win  glory;  I  know  all 
[about  that;  I  've  seen  an  old  hat  in  the  Louvre."  And  he 
would  have  had  her  to  suppose  that  he  had  looked  on  the 
campaigning  head-cover  of  Napoleon  simply  as  a  shocking 
bad,  bald,  brown-rubbed  old  tricovne  rather  than  as  the  nod 
of  extinction  to  thousands,  the  great  orb  of  darkness,  the 
still-trembling  gloomy  quiver  —  the  brain  of  the  lightnings 
of  battles. 

Now  this  boy  nursed  no  secret  presumptuous  belief  that 
he  was  fitted  for  the  walks  of  the  higher  intellect;  he  was 
not  having  his  impudent  boy's  fling  at  superiority  over  the 
superior,  as  here  and  there  a  subtle-minded  vain  juvenile 
will;  nor  was  he  a  parrot  repeating  a  line  from  some  Lan- 
astrian  pamphlet.  He  really  disliked  war  and  the  sword ; 
and  scorning  the  prospect  of  an  idle  life,  confessing  that 
his  abilities  barely  adapted  him  for  a  sailor's,  he  was 
opposed  tojthe^career^opened  to  him  almost  to  the  extreme 
of  shrinEn^~andrterror.  Or  that  was  the  impression  con- 
veyed  to  a  not  unsympathetic  hearer  by  his  forlorn  efforts 
to  make  himself  understood,  which  were  like  the  tappings 
of  the  stick  of  a  blind  man  mystified  by  his  sense  of  touch 
at  wrong  corners.  His  bewilderment  and  speechlessness 
were  a  comic  display,  tragic  to  him. 

Just  as  his  uncle  Everard  predicted,  he  came  home  from 
his  first  voyage  a  pleasant  sailor  lad.  His  features, 
more  than  handsome  to  a  woman,  so  mobile  they  were, 
shone  of  sea  and  spirit,  the  chance  lights  of  the  sea,  and  the 
spirit  breathing  out  of  it.  As  to  war  and  bloodshed,  a 
man's  first  thought  must  be  his  country,  young  Jacket 
remarked,  and  Ich  dien  was  the  best  motto  afloat.     Eosa- 

Imund  noticed  the  peculiarity  of  the  books  he  selected  for 
his  private  reading.  They  were  not  boys'  books,  books  of 
adventure  and  the  like.  His  favourite  author  was  one 
writing  of  Heroes,  in  (so  she  esteemed  it)  a  style  resem- 
bling either  early  architecture  or  utter  dilapidation,  so 
loose  and  rough  it  seemed;  a  wjnd-in-the-orcbard  style, 
that  tumbled^  down  here  and  there  an""appr^ciaHeTmit 


UNCLE,    NEPHEW,   AND  ANOTHER 


19 


withuncoutli  bluster;  sentences  without  commencements 
running  to  abrupt  endings  and  smoke,  like  waves  against 
a  sea-wall,  learned  dictionary  words  giving  a  hand  to 
street-slang,  and  accents  falling  on  them  haphazard,  like 
slant  rays  from  driving  clouds ;  all  the  pages  in  a  breeze, 
the  whole  book  producing  a  kind  of  electrical  agitation  in 
the  mind  and  the  joints.  This  was  its  effect  on  the  lady. 
To  her  the  incomprehensible  was  the  abominable,  fqrjho. 
had  ^ur  cnunlyy^  high  criti_caL,  feeling ;  but  he,  while 
admitting  that  he  coulan^Fquite  master  it,  liked  it.  He\ 
had  dug  the  book  out  of  a  bookseller's  shop  in  Malta,  cap 
tivated  by  its  title,  and  had,  since  the  day  of  his  purchase, 
gone  at  it  again  and  again ,  getting  nibbles  of  golden  mean- 
ing by  instalments,  as  with  a  solitary  pick  in  a  very  dark 
mine,  until  the  illumination  of  an  idea  struck  him  that 
therewasa^reai.^dealDaor^^ 

fajnsap^  ^mTwajjuEliBlSpsecu^  attach^ 

ment  of^oung_Ml^-JSfiaiic.liaiil£r    Kosamund  sighed  with 
appreliension  to  think  of  his  unlikeness  to  boys  and  men 
among  his  countrymen  in  some  things.     Why  should  he — » 
TCg  a  book  h6  owned  he  could  not  quite  comprehend?    He 
said  he  liked  a  bone  in  his  mouth;  and  it  was   natural 
wisdom,  though  unappreciated  by  women.     A  bone  in  a' 
boy's   mind   for   him  to   gnaw   and   worry,    corrects   the  r 
vagrancies  and   promotes  the  healthy  activities,  whether 
there  be  marrow  in  it  or  not.     Supposing  it  furnishes  only ' 
dramatic  entertainment  in  that  usually  vacant  tenement, 
or  powder-shell,  it  will  be  of  service. 

Nevil  proposed  to  her  that  her  next  present  should  be 
the  entire  list  of  his.  belove_d  IncgmnrehensiblVs  published 
works,  and  she  promised,  and  wasnoFsorryTo  keep  her 
promise  dangling  at  the  skirts  of  memory,  to  drop  away  in 
time.  For  that  fire-and-smoke  writer  dedicated  volumes  to  * 
the  praise  of  a  regicide.  Nice  reading  for  her  dear  boy! 
Some  weeks  after  Nevil  was  off  again,  she  abused  herself 
for  her  half-hearted  love  of  him,  and  would  have  given 
him  anything  —  the  last  word  in  favour  of  the  Country 
versus  the  royal  Martyr,  for  example,  had  he  insisted  on 
it.  She  gathered,  bit  by  bit,  that  he  had  dashed  at  his 
big  blustering  cousin  Cecil  to  vindicate  her  good  name. 
The  direful  youths  fought  in  the  Steynham  stables,  over- 


20  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

heard J)y  the  gropms.  Everard  received  a  fine  account  of 
the  tussle  fromNfchese  latter,  and  Rosamund,  knowing  him 
to  be  of  the  order  of  gentlemen  who,  whatsoever  their  sins, 
will  at  all  costs  protect  a  woman's  delicacy,  and  a  depend- 
ant's^ man  or  woman,  did  not  fear  to  have  her  ears  shocked 
in  probing  him  on  the  subject. 

Everard  was  led  to  say  that  Nevil's  cousins  were  be- 
devilled with  womanfolk. 

From  which  Kosamund  perceived  that  women  had  been 
at  work;  and  if  so,  it  was  upon  the  business  of  the  scan- 
dalmonger; and  if  so,  Nevil  fought  his  cousin  to  protect 
her  good  name  from  a  babbler  of  the  family  gossip. 

She  spoke  to  Stukely  Culbrett,  her  dead  husband's 
friend,  to  whose  recommendation  she  was  indebted  for  her 
place  in  Everard  Romfrey's  household. 

"Nevil  behaved  like  a  knight,  I  hear." 

"Your  beauty  was  disputed,"  said  he,  "and  Nevil 
knocked  the  blind  man  down  for  not  being  able  to 
see." 

She  thought:  "Not  my  beauty !  Nevil  struck  his  cousin 
on  behalf  of  the  only  fair  thing  I  have  left  to  me  !  " 
(  This  was  a  moment  with  her  when  many  sensations  rush 
I  together  and  form  a  knot  in  sensitive  natures.  She  had 
•been  very  good-looking.  She  was  good-looking  still,  but 
she  remembered  the  bloom  of  her  looks  in  her  husband's 
days  (the  tragedy  of  the  mirror  is  one  for  a  woman  to  write : 
I  am  ashamed  to  find  myself  smiling  while  the  poor  lady 
weeps),  she  remembered  his  praises,  her  pride;  his  death 
in  battle,  her  anguish :  then,  on  her  strange  entry  to  this 
house,  her  bitter  wish  to  be  older;  and  then,  the  oppressive 
calm  of  her  recognition  of  her  wish's  fulfilment,  the  heavy 
drop  to  dead  earth,  when  she  could  say,  or  pretend  to 
think  she  could  say  —  I  look  old  enough  :  will  they  tattle 
of  me  now?  Nevil's  championship  of  her  good  name 
brought  her  history  spinning  about  her  head,  and  threw  a 
finger  of  light  on  her  real  position.  In  that  she  saw  the 
slenderness  of  her  hold  on  respect,   as  well   as  felt  her 

{personal  stainlessness.  The  boy  warmed  her  chill  widow- 
hood. It  was  written  that  her  second  love  should  be  of 
the  pattern  of  mother's  love.  She  loved  him  hungrily 
and  jealously,  always  in  fear  for  him  when  he  was  absent, 


BARONIAL   VIEWS   OF  THE  PRESENT  TIME  21 

even  anxiously  when  she  had  him  near.  For  some  cause, 
born,  one  may  fancy,  of  the  hour  of  her  love's  conception, 
his  image  in  her  heart  was  steeped  in  tears.  She  was  not, 
happily,  one  of  the  women  who  betray  strong  feeling,  and 
humour  preserved  her  from  excesses  of  sentiment. 


CHAPTER  III 

CONTAINS    BARONIAL    VIEWS    OF    THE   PRESENT   TIME 

Upon  the  word  of  honour  of  Rosamund,  the   letter  to 
the  officers  of  the  French  Guard  was  posted. 

"Post  it,  post  it,"  Everard  said,  on  her  consulting  him, 
with  the  letter  in  her  hand.  "Let  the  fellow  stand  his 
luck."  It  was  addressed  to  the  Colonel  of  the  First  Regi- 
ment of  the  Imperial  Guard,  Paris.  That  superscription 
had  been  suggested  by  Colonel  Halkett.  Rosamund  was 
in  favour  of  addressing  it  to  Versailles,  Nevil  to  the  Tui- 
leries;  but  Paris  could  hardly  fail  to  hit  the  mark,  and 
Nevil  waited  for  the  reply,  half  expecting  an  appointment 
on  the  French  sands :  jor  the  act  of  posting  a  letter,  though 
it  be  to  little  short  of  the  Pleiades  even,'"wiir  stamp  an 
incredible  proceedinff-~aa-a.^mafferj)f_business7^  ready  Is 
TEe^ardentmind  to  take  footing  on  the  last  thing  done. 
The  flight  of  Mr.  Beauchamp's  letter  placed  it  in  the  com- 
mon order  of  occurrences  for  the  youthful  author  of  it. 
Jack  Wilmore,  a  messmate,  offered  to  second  him,  though 
he  should  be  dismissed  the  service  for  it.  Another  second 
would  easily  be  found  somewhere ;  for,  as  Nevil  observed, 
you  have  only  to  set  these  affairs  going,  and  British  blood 
rises:  we  are  not  the  people  you  see  on  the  surface. 
Wilmore's  father  was  a  parson,  for  instance.  What  didj 
he  do?  He  could  not  help  himself:  he  supplied  the  army  J 
and  navy  with  recruits !.  One  son  was  in  a  marching  regi- 
ment, the  other  was  Jack,  and  three  girls  had  vowed  never 
to  quit  the  rectory  save  as  brides  of  officers.  Nevil 
thought  that  seemed  encouraging;  we  were  evidently  not^ 
a  nation  of  shopkeepers  at  heart;  and  he  quoted  sayings  of  I 


22  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett's,  in  which  neither  his  e^r  nor  Wil- 
more's  detected  the  under-ring  Stukely  was  famous  for-, 
as  that  England  had  saddled  herself  with  India  for  the 
express  purpose  of  better  obeying  the  Commandments  in 
Europe ;  and  that  it  would  be  a  lamentable  thing  for  the 
Continent  and  our  doctrines  if  ever  beef  should  fail  the 
Briton,  and  such  like.  "  Depend  upon  it  we  're  a  fighting 
nation  naturally,  Jack,"  said  Nevil.  "How  can  we  sub- 
mit! .  .  .  however,  I  shall  not  be  impatient.  I  dislike 
duelling,  and  hate  war,  but  I  will  have  the  country  re- 
spected." They  planned  a  defence  of  the  country,  drawing 
their  strategy  from  magazine  articles  by  military  pens, ' 
reverberations  of  the  extinct  voices  of  the  daily  and  weekly 
journals,  customary  after  a  panic,  and  making  bloody 
stands  on  spots  of  extreme  pastoral  beauty,  which  they 
visited  by  coach  and  rail,  looking  back  on  unfortified  Lon- 
don with  particular  melancholy. 

Eosamund's  word  may  be  trusted  that  she  dropped  the 
letter  into  a  London  post-office  in  pursuance  of  her  promise 
to  Nevil.  The  singular  fact  was  that  no  answer  to  it  ever 
arrived.  Nevil,  without  a  doubt  of  her  honesty,  proposed 
an  expedition  to  Paris ;  he  was  ordered  to  join  his  ship, 
and  he  lay  moored  across  the  water  in  the  port  of  Bevisham, 
panting  for  notice  to  be  taken  of  him.  The  slight  of  the 
total  disregard  of  his  letter  now  affected  him  personally ; 
it  took  him  some  time  to  get  over  this  indignity  put  upon 
him,  especially  because  of  his  being  under  the  impression 
that  the  country  suffered,  not  he  at  all.  The  letter  had 
served  its  object:  ever  since  the  transmission  of  it  the 
menaces  and  insults  had  ceased.  But  they  might  be  re- 
newed, and  he  desired  to  stop  them  altogether.  His  last 
feeling  was  one  of  genuine  regret  that  Frenchmen  should 
have  behaved  unworthily  of  the  high  estimation  he  held 
them  in.     With  which  he  dismissed  the  affair. 

He  was  rallied  about  it  when  he  next  sat  at  his  uncle's 
table,  and  had  to  pardon  Kosamund  for  telling. 

Nevil  replied  modestly :  "  I  dare  say  you  think  me  half 
a  fool,  sir.  Air  I  know  is,  I  waited  for  my  betters  to 
speak  first.     I  have  no  dislike  of  Frenchmen." 

Everard  shook  his  head  to  signify,  "not  AaZ/*."  But  he 
was  gentle  enough  in  his  observations.    "There  's  a  motto, 


BAEOXIAL  VIEWS   OF   THE   PRESENT  TIME  23 

Ex  pede  Herculem.  You  stepped  out  for  the  dogs  to  judge 
better  of  us.  It 's  an  infernally  tripping  motto  for  a 
composite  structure  like  the  kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and 
Manchester,  boy  Nevil.  We  can  fight  foreigners  when  the 
time  comes."  He  directed  Nevil  to  look  home,  and  cast 
an  eye  on  the  cotton-spinners,  with  the  remark  that  they. 
were  binding  us  hand  and  foot  to  sell  us  to  the  biggest 
buyer,  and  were  not  Eng:lishmen  but  ^'  Germans  and  Jews,' 
and  quakers  and  hybrids,  diligent  clerks  and  speculators, 
and  commercial  travellers,  who  have  raised  a  fortune  from 
joistmg  drugged  goods  on  an  idiot  population. " 

He  loathed  them  for  the  curse  they  were  to  the  country. 
And  he  was  one  of  the  few  who  spoke  out.  The  fashion 
was  to  pet  them.  We  stood  against  them;  were  half- 
hearted, and  were  beaten;  and  then  we  petted  them,  and 
bit  by  bit  our  privileges  were  torn  away.  We  made  lords 
of  them  to  catch  them,  and  they  grocers  of  us  by  way  of 
, a  return.  "Already,"  said  Everard,  "they  have  knocked 
the  nation's  head  off,  and  dry-rotted  the  bone  of  the 
people." 

"Don't  they,"  Nevil  asked,  "belong  to  the  Liberal 
party?" 

"I'll  tell  you,"  Everard  replied,  "they  belong  to  any 
party  that  upsets  the  party  above  them.  They  belong  to 
the  George  Foxe  party,  and  my  poultry-roosts  are  the 
mark  they  aim  at.  You  shall  have  a  glance  at  the  manu- 
facturing district  some  day.  You  shall  see  the  machines 
they  work  with.  You  shall  see  the  miserable,  lank- 
jawed,  half-stewed  pantaloons  they  've  managed  to  make  of 
Englishmen  there.  My  blood's  past  boiling.  ^They  work 
young  children  in  their  factories  from  morning  to  night. 
Their  manufactories  are  spreading  like  the  webs  of  the 
devil  to  suck  the  blood  of  the  country.  In  that  district  of 
theirs  an  epidemic  levels  men  like  a  disease  in  sheep. 
Skeletons  can't  make  a  stand.  On  the  top  of  it' all  they 
sing  Sunday  tunes !  " 

This^  behaviour  of  corn-law  agitators  and  protectors_of_ 
poachers    was    an    hypocrisy   too   horrible   for    comment. 
llverard  sipped" claret.     Nevitlashed  his  head  for  the  clear 
idea  which  objurgation  insists  upon  implanting,  but  batters 
to  pieces  in  the  act. 


24  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

"  Mancliester  's  the  belly  of  this  country !  "  Everard  con- 
tmued.  "  So  long  as  Manchester  flourishes,  we  're  a  coun- 
try governed  and  led  by  the  belly.  The  head  and  the  legs 
of  the  country  are  sound  still ;  I  don't  guarantee  it  for  long, 
but  the  middle 's  rapacious  and  corrupt.  Take  it  on  a  ques- 
tion of  foreign  affairs,  it 's  an  alderman  after  a  feast.  Bring 
it  upon  home  politics,  you  meet  a  wolf." 

The  faithful  Whig  veteran  spoke  with  jolly  admiration 
of  the  speech  of  a  famous  Tory  chief. 

"  That  was  the  way  to  talk  to  them !  Denounce  them 
traitors  !  Up  whip,  and  set  the  ruffians  capering  !  Hit 
them  facers !  Our  men  are  always  for  the  too-clever  trick. 
They  pluck  the  sprouts  and  eat  them,  as  if  the  loss  of  a 
sprout  or  two  thinned  Manchester  !  Your  policy  of  absorp- 
tion is  good  enough  when  you  're  dealing  with  fragments. 
It's  a  devilish  unlucky  thing  to  attempt  with  a  concrete 
mass.  You  might  as  well  ask  your  head  to  absorb  a  wall 
by  running  at  it  like  a  pugnacious  nigger.  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  into  Parliament  ever.  You  're  a  fitter  man  out  of 
it;  but  if  ever  you're  bitten — and  it's  the  curse  of  our 
country  to  have  politics  as  well  as  the  other  diseases  — 
don't  follow  a  flag,  be  independent,  keep  a  free  vote ;  re- 
member how  I  've  been  tied,  and  hold  foot  against  Man- 
chester. Do  it  blindfold ;  you  don't  want  counselling,  you  're 
sure  to  be  right.  I  '11  lay  you  a  blood-brood  mare  to  a  cab- 
stand skeleton,  you  '11  have  an  easy  conscience  and  deserve 
the  thanks  qf  the  country." 

Nevil  listened  gravely.  The  soundness  of  the  head  and 
legs  of  the  country  he  took  for  granted.  The  inflated  state 
of  the  unchivalrous  middle,  denominated  Manchester,  terri- 
fied him.  Could  it  be  true  that  England  was  betraying 
signs  of  decay  ?  and  signs  how  ignoble  !.  Half-a-dozen  cres- 
cent lines  cunningly  turned,  sketched  her  figure  before  the 
world,  and  the  reflection  for  one  ready  to  die  upholding  her 
was  that^he  portrait  was  no  caricature.  Such  an  emblem- 
atic presentation  of  the  land  of  his  filial  affection  haunted 
him  with  hideous  mockeries.  Surely  the  foreigner  hearing 
our  boasts  of  her  must  compare  us  to  showmen  bawling  the 
attractions  of  a  Fat  Lady  at  a  fair ! 

Swoln  Manchester  bore  the  blame  of  it.  Everard  exulted 
to  hear  his  young  echo  attack  the  cotton-spinners.      But 


BABONIAL  VIEWS  OF  THE  PPwESENT  TIME  25 

Kevil  was  for  a  plan,  a  system,  immediate  action;  the 
descending  among  the  people,  and  taking  an  initiative, 
LEADING  them,  insisting  on  their  following,  not  standing 
aloof  and  shrugging. 

"  We  lead  them  in  war,"  said  he  ;   ^'  why  not  in  peace  ? 
There ^s  a  front  for  peace  as  well  as  war,   and  that's  our 


place  rightly.  We  're  pushed  aside  ;  why,  it  seems  to  me 
we  're  treated  like  old-fashioned  ornaments  !  The  fault  must 
be  ours.  Shrugging  and  sneering  is  about  as  honourable  as 
blazing  fireworks  over  your  own  defeat.  Back  we  have  to 
go  !  that's  the  point,  sir.  And  as  for  jeering  the  cotton- 
spinners,  I  can't  while  they  've  the  lead  of  us.  We  let 
them  have  it !  And  we  have  thrice  the  stake  in  the  country. 
I  don't  mean  properties  and  titles." 

*^  Deuce  you  don't,"  said  his  uncle. 

'•^  I  mean  our  names,  our  histories ;  I  mean  our  duties. 
As  for  jiitles^  the  way  to  defend  them  jp  ^-^  Hp  wnrf-.hy  nf 
them." 

"Damned  fine  speech,"  remarked  Everard.  "Now  you 
get  out  of  that  trick  of  prize-orationing.  I  call  it  snuffery, 
sir  ;  it 's  all  to  your  own  nose!  You're  talking  to  me,  not 
to  a  gallery.  *  Worthy  of  them  ! '  Csesar  wraps  his  head 
in  his  robe  :  he  gets  his  dig  in  the  ribs  for  all  his  attitudin- 
izing. It 's  very  well  for  a  man  to  talk  like  that  who  owns 
no  more  than  his  bare-bodkin  life,  poor  devil.  Tall  talk  's 
his  jewelry :  he  must  have  his  dandification  in  bunkum. 
You  ought  to  know  better.  Property  and  titles  are  worth 
having,  whether  you  are  '  worthy  of  them  '  or  a  disgrace  to 
your  class.  The  best  way  of  defending;  them  is  to  keep  a 
strong  fist,  and  takej;are  you  don't  draw  your  forejoot  back 
more  than  enough." 

"Please  propose  something  to  be  done,"  said  Nevil, 
depressed  by  the  recommendation  of  that  attitude. 

Everard  proposed  a  fight  for  every  privilege  his  class 
possessed.  "  They  say,"  he  said,  "  a  nobleman  fighting  the 
odds  is  a  sight  for  the  gods  :  and  I  would  n't  yield  an  inch 
of  ground.  It 's  no  use  calling  things  by  fine  names  —  the 
country  's  ruined  by  cowardice.  Poursuivez  !  I  cry.  Haro ! 
at  them  !  The  biggest  heart  wins  in  the  end.  I  have  n't  a 
doubt  about  that.  And  I  haven't  a  doubt  we  carry  the 
tonnage." 


26 

"There  s  the  people,"   sighed  Nevil,  entangled  in  his 
uncle's  haziness. 
"What  people?" 

"  I  suppose  the  people  of  Great  Britain  count,  sir." 
"  Of  course  they  do ;  when  the  battle 's  done,  the  fight 
lost  -and  won." 

"  Do  you  expect  the  people  to  look  on,  sir  ?  " 
"  The  people  always  wait  for  the  winner,  boy  Nevil." 
The  young  fellow  exclaimed  despondingly,  '^If  it- were  a 
race ! " 

"  It 's  like  a  race,  and  we  're  confoundedly  out  of  train- 
ing," said  Everard. 
\      There  he  rested.     A  mediaeval  gentleman  with  the  docile 
I  notions  of  the  twelfth  century,  complacently  driving  them 
/  to  grass  and  wattling  them  in  the  nineteenth,  could  be  of  no 
/  use  to  a  boy  trying  to  think,  though  he  could  set  the  young- 
I   ster  galloping.     Nevil  wandered  about  the  woods  of  Steyn- 
[  ham,  disinclined  to  shoot  and  lend  a  hand  to  country  sports. 
The  popping  of  the  guns  of  his  uncle  and  guests  hung 
about  his  ears  much  like  their  speech,  which  was  unobjec- 
tionable in  itself,  but  not  sufficient ;  a  little  hard,  he  thought, 
a  little  idle.      He  wanted  something,   and  wanted    them 
to  give  their  time  and  energy  to  something,  that  was  not  to 
be  had  in  a  market.     The  nobles,  he  felt  sure,  might  re- 
sume their  natural  alliance  with  the  people,  and  lead  them, 
as  they  did  of  old,  to  the  battle-field.     How  might  they  ? 
A  comely  Sussex  lass  could  not  well  tell  him  how.     Sarcastic 
reports  of  the  troublesome  questioner  represented  him  ap- 
plying to  a  nymph  of  the  country  for  enlightenment.     He 
thrilled  surprisingly  under  the  charm  of  feminine  beauty. 
/"The  fellow  's  sound  at  bottom,"  his  uncle  said,  hearing  of 
J  his  having  really  been  seen  walking  in  the  complete  form 
j  proper  to  his  budding  age,  that  is,  in  two  halves.     Nevil 
/  \  showed  that  he  had  gained  an  acquaintance  with  the  strug- 
*^  gles  of  the  neighbouring  agricultural  poor  to  live  and  rear 
their  children.     His  uncle's  table  roared  at  his  enumeration 
of  the  sickly  little  beings,  consumptive  or  bandy-legged, 
within  a  radius  of  five  miles  of  Steynham.     Action  was  what 
he   wanted,   Everard   said.      Nevil   perhaps   thought   the 
same,  for  he  dashed  out  of  his  mooning  with  a  wave  of  the 
Tory  standard  delighting  the  ladies,  though  in  that  conflict 


BARONIAL  VIEWS  OF  THE  PRESENT  TIME  27 

of  the  Lion  and  the  Unicorn  (which  was  a  Tory  song)  he 
seemed  rather  to  wish  to  goad  the  dear  lion  than  crush  the 
one-horned  intrusive  upstart.  His  calling  on  the  crack 
corps  of  Peers  to  enrol  themselves  forthwith  in  the  front 
ranks,  and  to  anticipate  opposition  by  initiating  measures, 
and  so  cut  out  that  funny  old  crazy  old  galleon,  the  People, 
from  under  the  batteries  of  the  enemy,  highly  amused  the 
gentlemen. 

Before  rejoining  his  ship,  Nevil  paid  his  customary  short 
visit  of  ceremony  to  his  great-aunt  Beauchamp  —  a  vener- 
able lady  past  eighty,  hitherto  divided  from  him  in  sym4 
pathy  by  her  dislike  of  his  uncle  Everard,  who  had  onc^ 
been  his  living  hero.  That  was  when  he  was  in  frocks, 
and  still  the  tenacious  fellow  could  not  bear  to  hear  his 
uncle  spoken  ill  of. 

"  All  the  men  of  that  family  are  heartless,  and  he  is  a) 
man  of  wood,  my  dear,  and  a  bad  man,"  the  old  lady  said.( 
"  He  should  have  kept  you  at  school,  and  sent  you  to  col-  [ 
lege.     You   want  reading   and  teaching   and  talking  to.) 
Such  a  house  as  that  is  should  never  be  a  home  for  you." 
She  hinted  at  Rosamund.     Nevil  defended  the  persecuted 
woman,  but  with  no  better  success  than  from  the  attacks 
of  the  Romfrey  ladies  ;   with  this  difference,  however,  that 
these  decried^the  woman^s_viciousarts,  and  Mistress  Eliza-l 
beth   Mary  Beauchamp   put  all  the   sin  upon  the    man.j 
Such  a  man !  she  said.     "  Let  me  hear  that  he  has  married 
her,  I  will  not  utter  another  word."     Nevil  echoed,  *'  Mar- 
ried !  "  in  a  different  key. 

''  I  am  as  much  of  an  aristocrat  as  any  of  you,  only  j) 
rank  morality  higher,"  said  Mrs.  Beauchamp.     "  When  you> 
were  a  child  I  offered  to  take  you  and  make  you  my  heir,  I 
and  /  would  have  educated  you.     You  shall  see  a  great- ' 
nephew  of  mine  that  I  did  educate ;  he  is  eating  his  din- 
ners for  the  bar  in  London,  and  comes  to  me  every  Sunday. 
I  shall  marry  him  to  a  good  girl,  and  I  shall  show  your 
uncle  what  my  kind  of  man-making  is." 

Nevil  had  no  desire  to  meet  the  other  great-nephew, 
especially  when  he  was  aware  of  the  extraordinary  circum- 
stance that  a  Beauchump  great-niece,  having  no  money, 
had  bestowed  her  hand  on  a  Manchester  man  defunct, 
whereof  this  young  Blackburn  Tuckham,  the  lawyer,  was 


28 

issue.  He  took  his  leave  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Beauchamp, 
respecting  her  for  her  constitutional  health  and  brightness, 
and  regretting  for  the  sake  of  the  country  that  she  had  not 
married  to  give  England  men  and  women  resembling  her. 
On  the  whole  he  considered  her  wiser  in  her  prescription 
for  the  malady  besetting  him  than  his  uncle.  He  knew 
that  action  was  but  a  temporary  remedy.  College  would 
have  been  his  chronic  medicine,  and  the  old  lady's  acuteness 
in  seeing  it  impressed  him  forcibly.  She  had  given  him  a 
peaceable  two  days  on  the  Upper  Thames,  in  an  atmosphere 
of  plain  good  sense  and  just-raindedness.  He  wrote  to 
thank  her,  saying :  "  My  England  at  sea  will  be  your 
parlour-window  looking  down  the  grass  to  the  river  and 
rushes  ;  and  when  you  do  me  the  honour  to  write,  please 
tell  me  the  names  of  those  wild-flowers  growing  along  the 
banks  in  Summer.'^  The  old  lady  replied  immediately, 
enclosing  a  cheque  for  fifty  pounds :  "  Colonel  Halkett 
informs  me  you  are  under  cloud  at  Steynham,  and  I  have 
thought  you  may  be  in  want  of  pocket-money.  The  wild- 
flowers  are  willow-herb,  meadow-sweet,  and  loosestrife.  I 
shall  be  glad  when  you  are  here  in  Summer  to  see  them." 

ISTevil  dispatched  the  following :  "  I  thank  you,  but  I  shall 
not  cash  the  cheque.  The  Steynham  tale  is  this  :  I  happened 
to  be  out  at  night,  and  stopped  the  keepers  in  chase  of  a 
young  fellow  trespassing.  I  caught  him  myself,  but  rec- 
ognized him  as  one  of  a  family  I  take  an  interest  in,  and 
let  him  run  before  they  came  up.  My  uncle  heard  a  gun  ; 
I  sent  the  head  gamekeeper  word  in  the  morning  to  out 
with  it  all.  Uncle  E.  was  annoyed,  and  we  had  a  rough 
parting.  If  you  are  rewarding  me  for  this,  I  have  no  right 
to  it." 

Mrs.  Beauchamp  rejoined  :  "  Your  profession  should  teach 
you  subordination,  if  it  does  nothing  else  that  is  valuable  to 
a  Christian  gentleman.  You  will  receive  from  the  publisher 
the  *  Life  and  Letters  of  Lord  Collingwood,'  whom  I  have 
it  in  my  mind  that  a  young  midshipman  should  task  him- 
self to  imitate.     Spend  the  money  as  you  think  fit." 

.  Nevil's  ship,  commanded  by  Captain  Kobert  Hall  (a  most 
gallant  officer,  one  of  his  heroes,  and  of  Lancashire  origin, 
strangely  !)  flew  to  the  South  American  station,  in  and 
about  Lord  Cochrane's  waters ;  then  as  swiftly  back.     For, 


BAKONIAL  VIEWS   OF   THE   PRESENT   TIME  29 

like  the  frail  Norwegian  bark  on  the  edge  of  the  maelstrom, 
liker  to  a  country  of  conflicting  interests  and  passions,  that 
is  not  mentally  on  a  level  with  its  good  fortune,  England 
was  drifting  into  foreign  complications.  A  paralyzed 
Minister  proclaimed  it.  The  governing  people,  which  is 
looked  to  for  direction  in  grave  dilemmas  by  its  represen- 
tatives and  reflectors,  shouted  that  it  had  been  accused  of 
pusillanimity.  No  one  had  any  desire  for  war,  only  we 
really  had  (and  it  was  perfectly  true)  been  talking  gigantic 
nonsense  of  peace,  and  of  the  everlastingness  of  the 
exchange  of  fruits  for  money,  with  angels  waving  raw- 
groceries  of  Eden  in  joy  of  the  commercial  picture.  There- 
fore, to  correct  the  excesses  of  that  fit,  we  held  the  standing 
by  the  Moslem,  on  behalf  of  the  Mediterranean  (and  the 
Moslem  is  one  of  our  customers,  bearing  an  excellent  repu- 
tation for  the  payment  of  debts),  to  be  good,  granting  the 
necessity.  We  deplored  the  necessity.  The  Press  wept 
over  it.  That,  however,  was  not  the  politic  tone  for  us 
while  the  Imperial  berg  of  Polar  ice  watched  us  keenly; 
and  the  Press  proceeded  to  remind  us  that  we  had  once  been 
bull-dogs.  Was  there  not  an  animal  within  us  having  a 
right  to  a  turn  now  and  then  ?  And  was  it  not  (Fal  staff,  on 
a  calm  world,  was  quoted)  for  the  benefit  of  our  constitu- 
tions now  and  then  to  loosen  the  animal  ?  Granting  the 
necessity,  of  course.  By  dint  of  incessantly  speaking  of  the 
necessity  we  granted  it  unknowingly.  The  lighter  hearts 
regarded  our  period  of  monotonously  lyrical  prosperity  as  a 
man  sensible  of  fresh  morning  air  looks  back  on  the  snoring 
bolster.  Many  of  the  graver  were  glad  of  a  change.  After 
all  that  maundering  over  the  blessed  peace  which  brings 
the  raisin  and  the  currant  for  the  pudding,  and  shuts  up  the 
cannon  with  a  sheep's  head,  it  became  a  principle  of  popular 
taste  to  descant  on  the  vivifying  virtues  of  war;  even  as, 
after  ten  months  of  money-mongering  in  smoky  London,  the 
citizen  hails  the  sea-breeze  and  an  immersion  in  unruly 
brine,  despite  the  cost,  that  breeze  and  brine  may  make  a 
man  of  him,  according  to  the  doctor's  prescription :  sweet  is 
home,  but  health  is  sweeter !  Then  was  there  another 
curious  exhibition  of  us.  Gentlemen,  to  the  exact  number 
of  the  Graces,  dressed  in  drab  of  an  ancient  cut,  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  icy  despot,  and  besought  him  to  give  way 


30 

for  Piety's  sake.  He,  courteous,  colossal,  and  immoveable, 
waved  them  homeward.  They  returned  and  were  hooted 
for  belying  the  bellicose  by  their  mission,  and  interpreting 
too  well  the  peaceful.  They  were  the  unparalyzed  Ministers 
of  the  occasion,  but  helpless. 

And  now  came  war,  the  purifier  and  the  pestilence. 

The  cry  of  the  English  people  for  war  was  pretty  general, 
as  far  as  the  criers  went.  They  put  on  their  Sabbath  face 
concerning  the  declaration  of  war,  and  told  with  approval 
how  the  Royal  hand  had  trembled  in  committing  itself  to 
the  form  of  signature  to  which  its  action  is  limited.  If 
there  was  money  to  be  paid,  there  was  a  bugbear  to  be 
slain  for  it ;  and  a  bugbear  is  as  obnoxious  to  the  repose 
of  commercial  communities  as  rivals  are  to  kings. 

The  cry  for  war  was  absolutely  unanimous,  and  a 
supremely  national  cry,  Everard  Romfrey  said,  for  it 
excluded  the  cotton-spinners. 

He  smacked  his  hands,  crowing  at  the  vociferations  of 
disgust  of  those  negrophiles  and  sweaters  of  Christians, 
whose  isolated  clamour  amid  the  popular  uproar  sounded 
of  gagged  mouths. 

One  of  the  half-stifled  cotton-spinners,  a  notorious  one, 
a  spouter  of  rank  sedition  and  hater  of  aristocracy,  a 
political  poacher,  managed  to  make  himself  heard.  He 
was  tossed  to  the  Press  for  a  morsel,  and  tossed  back  to  the 
people  in  strips.  Everard  had  a  sharp  return  of  appetite 
in  reading  the  daily  and  weekly  journals.  They  printed 
logic,  they  printed  sense ;  they  abused  the  treasonable 
barking  cur  unmercifully.  They  printed  almost  as  much 
as  he  would  have  uttered,  excepting  the  strong  salt  of  his 
similes,  likening  that  rascal  and  his  crew  to  the  American 
weed  in  our  waters,  to  the  rotting  wild  bee's  nest  in  our 
trees,  to  the  worm  in  our  ships'  timbers,  and  to  lamentable 
afflictions  of  the  human  frame,  and  of  sheep,  oxen,  honest 
hounds.  Manchester  was  in  eclipse.  The  world  of  Eng- 
laiid  discovered  that  the  peace-£aTt^jwCcE"oppos_ed^^ 
'^Iie'actual  cause  ol:  the  warT never  was  indication  clearer. 
"Butlny  business  is  with  Mr.  Beauchamp,  to  know  whom, 
and  partly  understand  his  conduct  in  after-days,  it  will  be 
as  well  to  take  a  bird's-eye  glance  at  him  through  the 
war. 


A  GLBIPSE  OF  NEVIL  IN  ACTION  31 

^    "Now,"  said  Everard,   "we  shall  see  what  stuff  there 
is  in  that  fellow  Nevil." 

He  expected,  as  you  may  imagine,  a  true  young  Beau- 
champ-Romfrey  to  be  straining  his  collar  like  a  leash- 
hound. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A   GLIMPSE    OF   NEVIL   IN    ACTION 

The  young  gentleman  to  whom  Everard  Romfrey  trans- 
ferred his  combative  spirit  dispatched  a  letter  from  the 
Dardanelles,  requesting  his  uncle  not  to  ask  him  for  a 
spark  of  enthusiasm.  He  despised  our  Moslem  allies,  he 
said,  and  thought  with  pity  of  the  miserable  herds  of  men 
in  regiments  marching  across  the  steppes  at  the  bidding 
of  a  despot  that  we  were  helping  to  popularize.  He  cer- 
tainly wrote  in  the  tone  of  a  jejune  politician ;  pardonable 
stuff  to  seniors  entertaining  similar  opinions,  but  most  exas- 
perating when  it  runs  counter  to  them :  though  one  ques- 
tion put  by  Nevil  was  not  easily  answerable.  He  wished 
to  know  whether  the  English  people  would  be  so  anxious 
to  be  at  it  if  their  man  stood  on  the  opposite  shore  and 
talked  of  trying  conclusions  on  their  green  fields.  And  he 
suggested  that  they  had  become  so  ready  for  war  because 
of  their  having  grown  rather  ashamed  of  themselves,  and 
for  the  special  reason  that  they  could  have  it  at  a  distance. 

^'  The  rascal's  liver 's  out  of  order,''  Everard  said. 

Coming  to  the  sentence  :  —  "  Who  speaks  out  in  this 
crisis  ?  There  is  one,  and  I  am  with  him ;  "  Mr.  Rom- 
frey's  compassionate  sentiments  veered  round  to  irate 
amazement.  For  the  person  alluded  to  was  indeed  the 
infamous  miauling  cotton-spinner.  Nevil  admired  him. 
He  said  so  bluntly.  He  pointed  to  that  traitorous  George- 
Foxite  as  the  one  heroical  Englishman  of  his  day,  declaring 
that  he  felt  bound  in  honour  to  make  known  his  admiration 
for  the  man;  and  he  hoped  his  uncle  would  excuse  him. 
"If  we  differ,  I  am  sorry,  sir;  but  I  should  be  a  coward  to 
withhold  what  I  think  of  him  when  he  has  all  England 


32  BEAUCHAIVIP'S   CAREER 

against  him,  and  he  is  in  the  right,  as  England  will  dis- 
cover. I  maintain  he  speaks  wisely  —  I  don't  mind  saying, 
like  a  prophet ;  and  he  speaks  on  behalf  of  the  poor  as  well 
as  of  the  country.  He  appears  to  me  the  only  public  man 
who  looks  to  the  state  of  the  poor —  I  mean,  their  interests. 
They  pay  for  war,  and  if  we  are  to  have  peace  at  home  and 
strength  for  a  really  national  war,  the  only  war  we  can 
ever  call  necessary,  the  poor  must  be  contented.  He  sees 
that.  I  shall  not  run  the  risk  of  angering  you  by  writing 
to  defend  him,  unless  I  hear  of  his  being  shamefully  mis- 
handled, and  the  bearer  of  an  old  name  can  be  of  service  to 
him.     I  cannot  say  less,  and  will  say  no  more." 

Everard  apostrophized  his  absent  nephew:  "  You  jackass  ! " 

I  am  reminded  by  Mr.  Romfrey's  profound  disappoint- 
ment in  the  youth,  that  it  will  be  repeatedly  shared  by 
many  others  :  and  I  am  bound  to  forewarn  readers  of  this 
history  that  there  is  no  plot  in  it.  The  hero  is  chargeable 
with  the  official  disqualification  of  constantly  offending 
prejudices,  never  seeking  to  please;  and  all  the  while  it  is 
upon  him  the  narrative  hangs.  To  be  a  public  favourite  is 
his  last  thought.  Beauchampism,  as  one  confronting  him 
calls  it,  may  be  said  to  stand  for  nearly  everything  which 
is  the  obverse  of  Byronism,  and  rarely  woos  your  sympathy, 
shuns  the  statuesque  pathetic,  or  any  kind  of  posturing. 
For  Beauchamp  will  not  even  look  at  happiness  lo  mourn 
its  absence ;  melodious  lamentations,  demoniacal  scorn,  are 
quite  alien  to  him.  His  faith  is  in  W'Orking  and  fighting. 
With  every  inducement  to  offer  himself  for  a  romantic 
figure,  he  despises  the  pomades  and  curling-irons  of  modern 
romance,  its  shears  and  its  labels :  in  fine,  every  one  of 
those  positive  things  by  whose  aid,  and  by  some  adroit 
flourishing  of  them,  the  nimbus  known  as  a  mysterious  halo 
is  produced  about  a  gentleman's  head.  And  a  highly  allur- . 
ing  adornment  it  is  !  We  are  all  given  to  lose  our  solidity 
and  fly  at  it ;  although  the  faithful  mirror  of  fiction  has 
been  showing  us  latterly  that  a  too  superhuman  beauty  has 
disturbed  popular  belief  in  the  bare  beginnings  of  the  exist- 
ence of  heroes :  but  this,  very  likely,  is  nothing  more  than 
a  fit  of  Republicanism  in  the  nursery,  and  a  deposition  of  the 


A    GLENIPSE   OF  NEVIL  IN  ACTION       '  33 

leadiDg  doll  for  lack  of  variety  in  him.  That  conqueror  of 
circumstances  will,  the  dullest  soul  may  begin  predicting, 
return  on  his  cockhorse  to  favour  and  authority.  Mean- 
time the  exhibition  of  a  hero  whom  circumstances  overcome, 
and  who  does  not  weep  or  ask  you  for  a  tear,  who  continu- 
ally forfeits  attractiveness  by  declining  to  better  his  own 
fortunes,  must  run  the  chances  of  a  novelty  during  the 
interregnum.  Nursery  Legitimists  will  be  against  him  to 
a  man ;  Republicans  likewise,  after  a  queer  sniff  at  his  pre- 
tensions, it  is  to  be  feared.  For  me,  I  have  so  little  com- 
mand over  him,  that  in  spite  of  my  nursery  tastes,  he  drags 
me  whither  he  lists."^  It  is  artless  art  and  monstrous  innd- 
vation  to  present  so  wilful  a  figure,  but  were  I  to  create  a 
striking  fable  for  him,  and  set  him  off  with  scenic  effects 
and  contrasts,  it  would  be  only  a  momentary  tonic  to  you, 
to  him  instant  death.  He  could  not  live  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere. The  simple  truth  has  to  be  told :  how  he  loved  his 
country,  and  for  another  and  a  broader  love,  growing  out  of 
his  first  passion,  fought  it;  and  being  small  by  comparison, 
and  finding  no  giant  of  the  Philistines  disposed  to  receive 
a  stone  in  his  fore-skull,  pummelled  the  obmutescent  mass, 
to  the  confusion  of  a  conceivable  epic.  His  indifferent 
England  refused  it  to  him.  That  is  all  I  can  say.  The 
greater  power  of  the  two,  she  seems,  with  a  quiet  derision 
that  does  not  belie  her  ^amiable  passivity,  to  have  reduced 
in  Beauchamp's  career  the  boldest  readiness  for  public 
action,  arid  some  good  stout  efforts  besides,  to  the  flat  result 
of  an  optically  discernible  influence  of  our  hero's  character 
in  the  domestic  circle  ;  perhaps  a  faintly-outlined  circle  or 
two  beyond  it.  But  this  does  not  forbid  him  to  be  ranked 
as  one  of  the  most  distinguishing  of  her  children  of  the  day 
he  lived  in.  Blame  the  victrix  if  you  think  he  should  have 
been  livelier. 

Nevil  soon  had  to  turn  his  telescope  from  politics.  The 
torch  of  war  wa^  actually  lighting,  and  he  was  not  fashioned 
to  be  heedless  of  what  surrounded  him.  Our  diplomacy, 
after  dancing  with  all  the  suppleness  of  stilts,  gravely 
resigned  the  gift  of  motion.  Our  dauntless  Lancastrian 
thundered  like  a  tempest  over  a  gambling  tent,  disregarded. 
Our  worthy  people,  consenting  to  the  doctrine  that  war  is  a 

3 


34  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

scourge,  contracted  the  habit  of  thinking  it,  in  this  case,  the 
dire  necessity  which  is  the  sole  excuse  for  giving  way  to  an 
irritated  pugnacity,  and  sucked  the  comforting  caramel  of 
an  alliance  with  their  troublesome  next-door  neighbour, 
profuse  in  comfits  as  in  scorpions.  Nevil  detected  that 
politic  element  of  their  promptitude  for  war.  His  recollec- 
tions of  dissatisfaction  in  former  days  assisted  him  to  per- 
ceive the  nature  of  it,  but  he  was  too  young  to  hold  his  own 
against  the  hubbub  of  a  noisy  people,  much  too  young  to 
remain  sceptical  of  a  modern  people's  enthusiasm  for  war 
while  journals  were  testifying  to  it  down  the  length  of 
their  columns,  and  letters  from  home  palpitated  with  it, 
and  shipmates  yawned  wearily  for  the  signal,  and  shiploads 
of  red  coats  and  blue,  infantry,  cavalry,  artillery,  were  sing- 
ing farewell  to  the  girl  at  home,  and  hurrah  for  anything  in 
foreign  waters.  He  joined  the  stream  with  a  cordial  spirit. 
Since  it  must  be  so  !  The  wind  of  that  haughty  proceeding 
of  the  Great  Bear  in  putting  a  paw  over  the  neutral  brook 
brushed  his  cheek  unpleasantly.  He  clapped  hands  for  the 
fezzy  defenders  of  the  border  fortress,  and  when  the  order 
came  for  the  fleet  to  enter  the  old  romantic  sea  of  storms 
and  fables,  he  wrote  home  a  letter  fit  for  his  uncle  Everard 
to  read.  Then  there  was  the  sailing  and  the  landing,  and 
the  march  up  the  heights,  which  Nevil  was  condemned  to 
look  at.  To  his  joy  he  obtained  an  appointment  on  shore, 
and  after  that  Everard  heard  of  him  from  other  channels. 
The  two  were  of  a  mind  when  the  savage  winter  advanced 
which  froze  the  attack  of  the  city,  and  might  be  imaged 
as  the  hoar  god  of  hostile  elements  pointing  a  hand  to  the 
line  reached,  and  menacing  at  one  farther  step.  Both 
blamed  the  Government,  but  they  divided  as  to  the  origin 
of  governmental  inefficiency ;  Nevil  accusing  the  Lords 
guilty  of  foulest  sloth,  Everard  the  Quakers  of  dry-rotting 
the  country.  He  passed  with  a  shrug  Nevil's  puling  outcry 
for  the  enemy  as  well  as  our  own  poor  fellows:  "At  his 
steppes  again !  "  And  he  had  to  be  forgiving  when  reports 
came  of  his  nephew's  turn  for  overdoing  his  duty:  "show- 
fighting,"  as  he  termed  it. 

"  Braggadocioing  in  deeds  is  only  next  bad  to  mouthing 
it,"  he  wrote  very  rationally.  "  Stick  to  your  line.  Don't 
go  out  of  it  till  you  are  ordered  out,    Bemember  that  we 


A  GLniPSE  OF  NEVIL   IN  ACTION  35 

want  soldiers  and  sailors,  we  don't  want  suicides. ^^  He 
condescended  to  these  italics,  considering  impressiveness  to 
be  urgent.  In  his  heart,  notwithstanding  his  implacably 
clear  judgement,  he  was  passably  well  pleased  with  the 
congratulations  encompassing  him  on  account  of  his 
nephew's  gallantry  at  a  period  of  dejection  in  Britain  :  for 
the  winter  was  dreadful ;  every  kind  heart  that  went  to  bed 
with  cold  feet  felt  acutely  for  our  soldiers  on  the  frozen 
heights,  and  thoughts  of  heroes  were  as  good  as  warming- 
pans.  Heroes  we  would  have.  It  happens  in  war  as  in 
wit,  that  all  the  birds  of  wonder  fly  to  a  flaring  reputation. 
He  that  has  done  one  wild  thing  must  necessarily  have 
done  the  other;  so  Nevil  found  himself  standing  in  the 
thick  of  a  fame  that  blew  rank  eulogies  on  him  for  acts 
he  had  not  performed.  The  Earl  of  Eomfrey  forwarded 
hampers  and  a  letter  of  praise.  "  They  tell  me  that  while 
you  were  facing  the  enemy,  temporarily  attaching  yourself 
to  one  of  the  regiments  —  I  forget  which,  though  I  have 
heard  it  named  —  you  sprang  out  under  fire  on  an  eagle 
clawing  a  hare.  I  like  that.  I  hope  you  had  the  benefit 
of  the  hare.  She  is  our  property,  and  I  have  issued  an 
injunction  that  she  shall  not  go  into  the  newspapers." 
Everard  was  entirely  of  a  contrary  opinion  concerning  the 
episode  of  eagle  and  hare,  though  it  was  a  case  of  a  bird  of 
prey  interfering  with  an  object  of  the  chase.  Nevil  wrote 
home  most  entreatingly  and  imperatively,  like  one  wincing, 
begging  him  to  contradict  that  and  certain  other  stories, 
and  prescribing  the  form  of  a  public  renunciation  of  his 
proclaimed  part  in  them.  "The  hare,"  he  sent  word,  "is 
the  property  of  young  Michell  of  the  Rodney,  and  he  is  the 
humanest  and  the  gallantest  fellow  in  the  service.  I  have 
written  to  my  Lord.  Pray  help  to  rid  me  of  burdens  that 
make  me  feel  like  a  robber  and  impostor." 
Everard  replied :  — 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  your  captain,  informing  me  that  I 
am  unlikely  to  see  you  home  unless  you  learn  to  hold  your- 

•  self  in.  I  wish  you  were  in  another  battery  than  Eobert 
Hall's.  He  forgets  the  force  of  example,  however  much  of 
a  dab  he  may  be  at  precept.  But  there  you  are,  and  please 
clap  a  hundredweight  on  your  appetite  for  figuring,  will 

,  you  ?     Do  you  think   there  is  any  good   in  helping  to 


36  BEAUCH amp's  CAREER 

Frenchify  our'  army  ?  I  loathe  a  fellow  who  shoots  at  a 
medal.  I  wager  he  is  easy  enough  to  be  caught  by  circum- 
vention—  put  me  in  the  open  with  him.  Tom  Biggot,  the 
boxer,  went  over  to  Paris,  and  stood  in  the  ring  with  one 
of  their  dancing  pugilists,  and  the  first  round  he  got  a 
crack  on  the  chin  from  the  rogue's  foot ;  the  second  round 
he  caught  him  by  the' lifted  leg,  and  punished  him  till  pec 
was  all  he  could  say  of  peccavi.  Fight  the  straightforward 
fight.  Hang  elan  !  Battle  is  a  game  of  give  and  take,  and 
if  our  men  get  elanned,  we  shall  see  them  refusing  to  come 
up  to  time.  This  new  crossing  and  medalling  is  the  devil's 
own  notion  for  upsetting  a  solid  British  line,  and  tempting 
fellows  to  get  invalided  that  they  may  blaze  it  before  the 
shopkeepers  and  their  wives  in  the  city.  Give  us  an  army  ! 
—  none  of  your  caperers.  Here  are  lots  of  circussy  heroes 
coming  home  to  rest  after  their  fatigues.  One  was  spout- 
ing at  a  public  dinner  yesterday  night.  He  went  into  it 
upright,  and  he  ran  out  of  it  upright  —  at  the  head  of  his 
men  !  —  and  here  he  is  feasted  by  the  citizens  and  making 
a  speech  upright,  and  my  boy  fronting  the  enemy  !  " 

Everard's  involuntary  break-down  from  his  veteran's 
roughness  to  a  touch  of  feeling  thrilled  Nevil,  who  began  to 
perceive  what  his  uncle  was  driving  at  when  he  rebuked  the 
coxcombry  of  the  field,  and  spoke  of  the  description  of  com- 
pliment your  hero  was  paying  Englishmen  in  affecting  to 
give  them  examples  of  bravery  and  preternatural  coolness. 
Nevil  sent  home  humble  confessions  of  guilt  in  this  respect, 
with  fresh  praises  of  young  Michell :  for  though  Everard, 
as  Nevil  recognized  it,  was  perfectly  right  in  the  abstract, 
and  generally  right,  there  are  times  when  an  example  is 
needed  by  brave  men  —  times  when  the  fiery  furnace  of 
death's  dragon-jaw  is  not  inviting  even  to  Englishmen 
receiving  the  word  that  duty  bids  them  advance,  and  they 
require  a  leader  of  the  way.  A  national  coxcombry  that 
pretends  to  an  independence  of  human  sensations,  and 
makes  a  motto  x)f  our  dandiacal  courage,  is  mol-e  perilous  to 
the  armies  of  the  nation  than  that  of  a  few  heroes.  It  is 
this  coxcombry  which  has  too  often  caused  disdain  of  the 
•yise  chief's,  maxim  of  calculation  for  winners,  namely,  to 
have  always  the  odds  on  your  side,  and  which  has  bled, 
shattered,  and  occasionally  disgraced  us.     Young  Michell's 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  NEVIL  IN  ACTION  37 

carrying  powder-bags  to  the  assault,  and  when  ordered  to 
retire,  bearing  them  on  his  back,  and  helping  a  wounded 
soldier  on  the  way,  did  surely  well ;  nor  did  Mr.  Beauchamp 
himself  behave  so  badly  on  an  occasion  when  the  sailors  of 
his  battery  caught  him  out  of  a  fire  of  shell  that  raised  jets 
of  dust  and  smoke  like  a  range  of  geysers  over  the  open,  and 
hugged  him  as  loving  women  do  at  a  meeting  or  a  parting. 
He  was  penitent  before  his  uncle,  admitting,  first,  that  the 
men  were  not  in  want  of  an  example  of  the  contempt  of 
death,  and  secondly,  that  he  doubted  whether  it  was  con- 
tempt of  death  on  his  part  so  much  as  pride  —  a  hatred  of 
being  seen  running. 

"  I  don't  like  the  fellow  to  be  drawing  it  so  fine,"  said 
Everard.  It  sounded  to  him  a  trifle  parsonical.  But  his 
heart  was  won  by  Nevil's  determination  to  wear  out  the 
campaign  rather  than  be  invalided  or  entrusted  with  a  holi- 
day duty.  ' 

"I  see  with  shame  (admiration  of  them)  old  infantry 
captains  and  colonels  of  no  position  beyond  their  rank  in 
the  army,  sticking  to  their  post,"  said  Nevil,  "  and  a  lord 
aind  a  lord  and  a  lord  slipping  off  as  though  the  stuff  of  the 
man  in  him  had  melted.  I  shall  go  through  with  it." 
Everard  approved  him. 

Colonel  Halkett  wrote  that  the  youth  was  a  skeletpn. 
Still  Everard  encouraged  him  to  persevere,  and  said  of 
him,  —  '  * 

''  I  like  him  for  holding  to  his  work  after  the  strain 's 
over.     That  tells  the  man." 

He  observed  at  his  table,  in  reply  to  commendations  of 
his  nephew,  — 

"  Nevil's  leak  is  his  political  craze,  and  that  seems  to  be 
going:  I  hope  it  is.  You  can't  rear  a  man  on  politics. 
When  I  was  of  his  age  I  never  looked  at  the  newspapers, 
except  to  read  the  divorce  cases.  I  came  to  politics  with  a 
ripe  judgement.  He  shines  in  action,  and  he'll  find  that 
out,  and  leave  others  the  palavering." 

It  was  upon  the  close  of  the  war  that  Nevil  drove  his 
uncle  to  avow  a  downright  undisguised  indignation  with 
him.  He  caught  a  fever  in  the  French  camp,  where  he  was 
dispensing  vivers  and  provends  out  of  English  hampers. 

"  Those  French  fellows  are  every  man  of  them  trained  up 


38  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

to  snapping-point,"  said  Everard.  "  You  're  sure  to  have 
them  if  you  hold  out  long  against  them.  And  greedy  dogs 
too :  they  're  for  half  our  hampers,  and  all  the  glory.  And 
there 's  Nevil,  down  on  his  back  in  the  thick  of  them  ! 
Will  anybody  tell  me  why  the  devil  he  must  be  poking  into 
■  the  French  camp  ?  They  were  ready  enough  to  run  to  him 
and  beg  potatoes.  It 's  all  for  humanity  he  does  it  —  mark 
that.  Never  was  a  word  fitter  for  a  quack's  mouth  than 
^humanity.'  Two  syllables  more,  and  the  parsons  would 
be  riding  it  to  sawdust.  Humanity  !  Humanitomtity ! 
It 's  the  best  word  of  the  two  for  half  the  things  done  in 
the  name  of  it." 

A  tremendously  bracing  epistle,  excellent  for  an  access  of 
fever,  was  dispatched  to  humanity's  curate,  and  Everard  sat 
expecting  a  hot  rejoinder,  or  else  a  black-sealed  letter,  but 
neither  one  nor  the  other  arrived.  Suddenly,  to  his  disgust, 
came  rumours  of  peace  between  the  mighty  belligerents. 

The  silver  trumpets  of  peace  were  nowhere  hearkened  to 
with  satisfaction  by  the  bull-dogs,  though  triumph  rang 
sonorously  through  the  music,  for  they  had  been  severely 
mangled,  as  usual  at  the  outset,  and  they  had  at  last  got 
their  grip,  and  were  in  high  condition  for  fighting. 

The  most  expansive  panegyrists  of  our  deeds  did  not 
dare  affirm  of  the  most  famous  of  them,  that  England  had 
embarked  her  costly  cavalry  to  offer  it  for  a  mark  of 
artillery -balls  on  three  sides  of  a  square :  and  the  belief 
was  universal  that  we  could  do  more  business-like  deeds 
and  play  the  great  game  of  blunders  with  an  ability  refined 
by  experience.  Everard  Komfrey  was  one  of  those  who 
thought  themselves  justified  in  insisting  upon  the  continu- 
ation of  the  war,  in  contempt  of  our  allies.  His  favourite 
saying  that  constitution  beats  the  world,  was  being  splen- 
didly manifested  by  our  bearing.  He  was  very  uneasy; 
he  would  not  hear  of  peace ;  and  not  only  that,  the  impe- 
-j^al  gentleman  soberly  committed  the  naivete  of  sending 
word  to  NeviTl:o  let  Mmknow  immediately  the  opinion  of 
the  camp  concerning  it,  as  perchance  an  old  Roman  knight 
may  have  written  to  some  young  aquilifer  of  the  Praetorians. 

Allies,  however,  are  of  the  description  of  twins  joined  by 
a  membrane,  and  supposing  that  one  of  them  determines 
to  sit  down,  the  other  will  act  wisely  in  bending  his  knees 


RENEE  39 

at  once,  and  doing  the  same :  he  cannot  but  be  extremely 
uncomfortable  left  standing.  Besides,  there  was  the 
Ottoman  cleverly  poised  again;  the  Muscovite  was  battered; 
fresh  gilt  was  added  to  the  military  glory  of  the  Gaul. 
English  grumblers  might  well  be  asked  what  they  had 
fought  for,  if  they  were  not  contented. 

Colonel  Halkett  mentioned  a  report  that  Nevil  had  re- 
ceived a  slight  thigh-wound  of  small  importance.  At  any 
rate,  something  was  the  matter  with  him,  and  it  was 
naturally,  imagined  that  he  would  have  double  cause  to 
write  home;  and  still  more  so  for  the  reason,  his  uncle 
confessed,  that  he  had  foreseen  the  folly  of  a  war  conducted 
by  milky  cotton-spinners  and  their  adjuncts,  in  partner- 
ship with  a  throned  gambler,  who  had  won  his  stake,  and 
now  snapped  his  fingers  at  them.  Everard  expected,  he 
had  prepared  himself  for,  the  young  naval  politician's 
crow,  and  he  meant  to  admit  frankly  that  he  had  been 
wrong  in  wishing  to  fight  anybody  without  having  first 
crushed  the  cotton  faction.     But  Nevil  continued  silent. 

"Dead  in  hospital  or  a  Turk  hotel!"  sighed  Everard; 
"  and  no  more  to  the  scoundrels  over  there  than  a  body  to 
he  shovelled  into  slack  lime." 

Rosamund  Culling  was  the  only  witness  of  his  remark- 
able betrayal  of  grief. 


CHAPTER  V 

REN^E 


At  last,  one  morning,  arrived  a  letter  from  a  French 
gentleman  signing  himself  Comte  Cresnes  de  Croisnel,  in 
which  Everard  was  informed  that  his  nephew  had'  accom- 
panied the  son  of  the  writer.  Captain  de  Croisnel,  on  board 
an  Austrian  boat  out  of  the  East,  and  was  lying  in  Venice 
under  a  return-attack  of  fever,  —  not,  the  count  stated 
pointedly,  in  the  hands  of  an  Italian  physician.  He  had 
brought  his  own  with  him  to  meet  his  son,  who  was  like- 
wise disabled. 


40  ■  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

.  Everard  was  assured  by  M.  de  Croisnel  that  every  atten- 
tion and  affectionate  care  were  being  rendered  to  his  gallant 
and  adored  nephew  —  "vrai  type  de  tout  ce  qu'il  y  a  de 
noble  et  de  chevaleresque  dans  la  vieille  Angleterre  "  — 
from  a  family  bound  to  him  by  the  tenderest  obligations, 
personal  and  national;  one  as  dear  to  every  member  of  it 
as  the  brother,  the  son,  they  welcomed  with  thankful 
hearts  to  the  Divine  interposition  restoring  him  to  them. 
In  conclusion,  the  count  proposed  something  like  the  em- 
brace of  a  fraternal  friendship  should  Everard  think  fit  to 
act  upon  the  spontaneous  sentiments  of  a  loving  relative, 
and  join  them  in  Venice  to  watch  over  his  nephew's  re- 
covery. Already  M.  Nevil  was  stronger.  The  gondola 
was  a  medicine  in   itself,  the  count  said. 

Everard  knitted  his  mouth  to  intensify  a  peculiar  sub- 
dued form  of  laughter  through  the  nose,  in  hopeless 
ridicule  of  a  Frenchman's  notions  of  an  Englishman's  oc- 
cupations — -presumed  across  Channel  to  allow  of  his  break- 
ing loose  from  shooting  engagements  at  a  minute's  notice, 
to  rush  off  to  a  fetid  foreign  city  notorious  for  mud  and 
mosquitoes,  and  commence  capering  and  grimacing,  pour- 
ing forth  a  jugful  of  ready-made  extravagances,  with  7no7i 
Jils !  TTion  cher  neveu !  Dieu !  and  similar  fiddlededee. 
These  were  matters  for  women  to  do,  if  they  chose:  women 
and  Frenchmen  were  much  of  a  pattern.  Moreover,  he 
knew  the  hotel  this  Comte  de  Croisnel  was  staying  at. 
He  gasped  at  the  name  of  it:  he  had  rather  encounter  a 
grisly  bear  than  a  mosquito  any  night  of  his  life,  for  no 
stretch  of  cunning  outwits  a  mosquito;  and  enlarging  on 
the  qualities  of  the  terrific  iijsect,  he  vowed  it  was  dam- 
nation without  trial,  or  judgement. 

Eventually  Mrs.  Culling's  departure  was  permitted.  He 
argued,  "Why  go?  the  fellow  's  comfortable,  getting  him- 
self together,  and  you  say  the  French  are  good  nurses." 
But  her  entreaties  to  go  were  vehement,  though  Venice  had 
no  happy  place  in  her  recollections,  and  he  withheld  his 
objections  to  her  going.  For  him,  the  fields  forbade  it. 
He  sent  hearty  messages  to  Nevil,  and  that  was  enough, 
considering  .that  the  young  dog  of  "humanity  "  had  clearly 
been  running  out  of  his  way  to  catch  a  jaundice,  and  was 
bereaving  his  houses  of  the  matronly  government,  deprived 


RENEE  41 

of  which  they  were  all  of  them  likely  soon  to  be  at  sixes 
and  sevens  with  disorderly  lacqueys,  peccant  maids,  and 
cooks  in  hysterics. 

Now  if  the  master  of  his  fortunes  had  come  to  Venice  ! 
—  Nevil  started  the  supposition  in  his  mind  often  after 
hope  had  sunk.  —  Everard  would  have  seen  a  young  sailor 
and  a  soldier  the  thinner  for  wear,  reclining  in  a  gondola 
half  the  day,  fanned  by  a  brunette  of  the  line  lineaments 
of  the  good  blood  of  France.     She  chattered  snatches  ofj 
Venetian  caught  from  the  gondoliers,  she  was  like  a  deli-V^ 
cate  cup  of  crystal  brimming  with  the  beauty  of  the  places 
akd   making   one   of  them    drink   in  all  his  impressions  ' 
through  her.      Her  features    had   the    soft   irregularities 
which  run   to  rarities  of   beauty,  as  the  ripple  rocks  the 
light;  mouth,  eyes,  brows,    nostrils,    and   bloomy   cheeks 
played   into  one  another  liquidly;    thought  flew,   tongue 
followed,  and  the  flash  of  meaning  quivered  over  them  like 
night-lightning.     Or  oftener,  to  speak  truth,  tongue  flew, 
thought  followed :  her  age  was  bat  newly  seventeen,  and 
she  was  French. 

Her  name  Was  Rende.  She  was  the  only  daughter  of 
the  Corate  de  Croisnel.  Her  brother  Roland  ow-ed  his  life 
to  Nevil,  this  Englishman  proud  of  a  French  name  —  Nevil 
Beaucharap.  If  there  was  any  warm  feeling  below  the 
unruffled  surface  of  the  girl's  deliberate  eyes  while  gazing 
on  him,  it  was  that  he  who  had  saved  her  brother  must  be 
nearly  brother  himself,  yet  was  not  quite,  yet  must  be 
loved,  yet  not  approached.  He  was  her  brother's  brother- 
in-arms,  brother-in-heart,  not  hers,  yet  hers  through  her 
bxother.  His  French  name  rescued  him  from  foreignness. 
He  spoke  her  language  with  a  piquant  accent,  unlike  the 
pitiable  English.  Unlike  them,  he  was  gracious,  and 
could  be  soft  and  quick.  The  battle-scarlet,  battle-black, 
Roland's  tales  of  him  threw  round  him  in  her  imagina- 
tion, made  his  gentleness  a  surprise.  If,  then,  he  was 
hers  through  her  brother,  what  was  she  to  him?  The 
question  did  not  spring  clearly  within  her,  though  she 
was  alive  to  every  gradual  change  of  manner  toward  the 
convalescent  necessitated  by  the  laws  overawing  her 
sex. 

Venice  was  the  French  girl's  dream.     She  was  realizing 


42  BEAtJCHAMP*S  CAREER 

it  hungrily,  revelling  in  it,  anatomizing  it,  picking  it  to 
pieces,  reviewing  it,  comparing  her  work  with  the  original, 
and  the  original  with  her  first  conception,  until  beautiful 
sad  Venice  threatened  to  be  no  more  her  dream,  and  in 
dread  of  disenchantment  she  tried  to  take  impressions 
humbly,  really  tasked  herself  not  to  analyze,  not  to  dictate 
from  a  French  footing,  not  to  scorn.  Not  to  be  petulant 
with  objects  disappointing  her,  was  an  impossible  task. 
She  could  not  consent  to  a  compromise  with  the  people, 
the  merchandize,  the  odours  of  the  city.  Gliding  in  the 
gondola  through  the  narrow  canals  at  low  tide,  she  leaned 
back  simulating  stupor,  with  one  word  —  "  Venezia ! "  Her 
brother  was  commanded  to  smoke:  "Fumez,  fumez, 
E-oland!"  As  soon  as  the  steel-crested  prow  had  pushed 
into  her  Paradise  of  the  Canal  Grande,  she  quietly  shrouded 
her  hair  from  tobacco,  and  called  upon  rapture  to  recom- 
pense her  for  her  sufferings.  The  black  gondola  was 
unendurable  to  her.  She  had  accompanied  her  father  to 
the  Accademia,  and  mused  on  the  golden  Venetian  streets 
of  Carpaccio :  she  must  have  an  open  gondola  to  decorate 
in  his  manner,  gaily,  splendidly,  and  mock  at  her  efforts 
—  a  warning  to  all  that  might  hope  to  improve  the  prevail- 
ing gloom  and  squalor  by  levying  contributions  upon  the 
Merceria !  Her  most  constant  admiration  was  for  the 
English  lord  who  used  once  to  ride  on  the  Lido  sands  and 
visit  the  Armenian  convent  —  a  lord  and  a  poet. 

This  was  to  be  infinitely  more  than  a  naval  lieutenant. 
But  Nevil  claimed  her  as  little  personally  as  he  allowed 
her  to  be  claimed  by  another.  The  graces  of  her  freaks  of 
petulance  and  airy  whims,  her  sprightly  jets  of  wilfulness, 
fleeting  frowns  of  contempt,  imperious  decisions,  were  all 
beautiful,  like  silver-shifting  waves,  in  this  lustrous 
planet  of  her  pure  freedom;  and  if  you  will  seize  the 
divine  conce^jtion  of  Artemis,  and  own  the  goddess  French, 
you  will  understand  his  feelings. 

But  though  he  admired  fervently,  and  danced  obediently 
to  her  tunes,  Nevil  could  not  hear  injustice  done  to  a 
people  or  historic  poetic  city  without  trying  hard  to  right 
the  mind  guilty  of  it.  A  newspaper  correspondent,  a  Mr. 
John  Holies,  lingering  on  his  road  home  from  the  army, 
put  him  on  the  track  of  an  Englishman's  books  touching 


RENEE  43 

the  spirit  as  well  as  the  stones  of  Venice,  and  Nevil 
thanked  him  when  he  had  turned  some  of  the  leaves. 

The  study  of  the  books  to  school  Renee  was  pursued, 
like  the  Bianchina's  sleep,  in  gondoletta,  and  was  not 
unlike  it  at  intervals.  A  translated  sentence  was  the  key- 
to  a  reverie.  Ren^e  leaned  back,  meditating;  he  forward; 
the  book  on  his  knee :  Roland  left  them  to  themselves,  and 
spied  for  the  Bianchina  behind  the  window-bars.  The 
count  was  in  the  churches  or  the  Galleries.  Renee 
thought  she  began  to  comprehend  the  spirit  of  Venice, 
and  chided  her  rebelliousness. 

"But  our  Venice  was  the  Venice  of  the  decadence, 
then!"  she  said,  complaining.  Nevil  read  on,  distrustful 
of  the  perspicuity  of  his  own  ideas. 

"Ah,  but,"  said  she,  "when  these  Venetians  were  rough 
men,  chanting  like  our  Huguenots,  how  cold  it  must  have 
been  here ! " 

She  hoped  she  was  not  very  wrong  in  preferring  the 
times  of  the  great  Venetian  painters  and  martial  doges  to 
that  period  of  faith  and  stone-cutting.  What  was  done 
then  might  be  beautiful,  but  the  life  was  monotonous ;  she 
insisted  that  it  was  Huguenot;  harsh,  nasal,  sombre,  inso- 
lent, self-sufficient.  Her  eyes  lightened  for  the  flashing 
colours  and  pageantries,  and  the  threads  of  desperate  ad- 
venture crossing  the  rii  to  this  and  that  palace-door  and 
balcony,  like  faint  blood-streaks;  the  times  of  Venice  in 
full  flower.  She  reasoned  against  the  hard  eloquent  Eng- 
lishman of  the  books.  "  But  we  are  known  by  our  fruits, 
are  we  not  ?  and  the  Venice  I  admire  was  surely  the  fruit 
of  these  stonecutters  chanting  hymns  of  faith ;  it  could  not 
but  be  :  and  if  it  deserved,  as  he  says,  to  die  disgraced,  I 
think  we  should  go  back  to  them  and  ask  them  whether 
their  minds  were  as  pure  and  holy  as  he  supposes."  Her 
French  wits  would  not  be  subdued.  Nevil  pointed  to  the 
palaces..  "Pride,"  said  she.  He  argued  that  the  original 
Venetians  were  not  responsible  for  their  offspring.  "  You 
say  it  ?  "  she  cried,  "  you,  of  an  old  race  ?  Oh,  no ;  you  do 
not  feel  it !  "  and  the  trembling  fervour  of  her  voice  con- 
vinced him  that  he  did  not,  could  not. 

Ren^e  said:  "I  know  my  ancestors  are  bound  up  in  me, 
by  my  sentiments  to  theln;  and  so  do  you,  M.  Nevil.     We 


44  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

shame  them  if  we  fail  in  courage  and  honour.  Is  it  not 
so  ?  If  we  break  a  single  pledged  word  we  cast  shame  on 
them.  Why,  that  makes  us  what  we  are;  that  is  our 
distinction:  we  dare  not  be  weak  if  we  would.  And 
therefore  when  Venice  is  reproached  with  avarice  and  lux- 
ury, I  choose  to  say  —  what  do  we.  hear  of  the  children  of 
misers  ?  and  I  say  I  am  certain  that  those  old  cold 
Huguenot  stonecutters  were  proud  and  grasping.  I  am, 
sure  they  were,  and  they  shall  share  the  blame." 

Nevil  plunged  into  his  volume. 

He  called  on  Roland  for  an  opinion. 

"Friend,"  said  Roland,  ''opinions  may  diifer:  mine  is, 
considering  the  defences  of  the  windows,  that  *the  only 
way  into  these  houses  or  out  of  them  bodily  was  the 
doorway." 

Roland  complimented  his  sister  and  friend  on  the  prose- 
cution of  their  studies :  he  could  not  understand  a  word  of 
the  subject,  and  yawning,  he  begged  permission  to  be 
allowed  to  land  and  join  the  gondola  at  a  jdistant  quarter. 
The  gallant  officer  was  in  haste  to  go. 

Renee  stared  at  her  brother.  He  saw  nothing ;  he  said 
a  word  to  the  gondoliers,  and  quitted  the  boat.  Mars'  was 
in  pursuit.  She  resigned  herself,  and  ceased  then  to  be 
a  girl. 


CHAPTER  VI 

LOVE   IN   VENICE 


The  air  flashed  like  heaven  descending  for  Nevil  alone 
with  Renee.  They  had  never  been  alone  before.  Such 
happiness  belonged  to  the  avenue  of  wishes  leading  to 
golden  mists  beyond  imagination,  and  seemed,  coming  on 
him  suddenly,  miraculous.  He  leaned  toward  her  like  one 
who  has  broken  a  current  of  speech,  and  waits  to  resume 
it.  She  was  all  unsuspecting  indolence,  with  gravely 
shadowed  eyes. 

"I  throw  the  book  down,"  he  said. 


LOVE  IN  VENICE  45 

She  objected.     "ISTo;  continue:  I  like  it." 

Both  of  them  divined  that  the  book  was  there  to  do  duty 
.for  Roland. 

He  closed  it,  keeping  a  finger  among  the  leaves ;  a  kind 
of  anchorage  in  case  of  indiscretion. 

"Permit, me  to  tell  you,  M.  Nevil,  you  are  inclined  to 
play  truant  to-day." 

"lam." 

"Now  is'  the  very  time  to  read;  for  my  poor  Roland  is 
at  sea  when  we  discuss  our  questions,  and  the  book  has 
driven  him  away." 

"But  we  have  plenty  of  time  to  read.  We  miss  the 
scenes." 

^  "The  scenes  are  green  shutters,  wet  steps,  barcaroli, 
brown  women,  striped  posts,  a  scarlet  night-cap,  a  sick 
fig-tree,  an  old  shawl,  faded  spots  of  colour,  peeling  walls. 
They  might  be  figured  by  a  trodden  melon.  They  all  re- 
semble one  another,  and  so  do  the  days  here." 

"That's  the  charm.  I  wish  I  could  look  on  you  and 
think  the  same.     You,  as  you  are,  for  ever." 

"Would  you  not  let  me  live  my  life?" 

"  I  would  not  have  you  alter. " 

"Please  to  be  pathetic  on  that  subject  after  I  am 
wrinkled,  monsieur." 

"You  want  commanding,  mademoiselle." 

Renee  nestled  her  chin,  and  gazed  forward  through  her 
eyelashes. 

"  Venice  is  like  a  melancholy  face  of  a  former  beauty 
who  has  ceased  to  rouge,  or  wipe  away  traces  of  her  old 
arts,"  she  said,  straining  for  common  talk,  and  showing 
the  strain. 

"Wait;  now  we  are  rounding,"  said  he;  "now  you  have 
three  of  what  you  call  your  theatre-bridges  in  sight.  The 
people  mount  and  drop,  mount  and  drop ;  I  see  them 
laugh.  They  are  full  of  fun  and  good-temper.  Look  on 
living  Venice."  ' 

"Provided  that  my  papa  is  not  crossing  when  we  go 
under." 

"  Would  he  not  trust  you  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"He  would?    And  you?" 


46  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"I  do  believe  they  are  improvising  an  operetta  on  the 
second  bridge." 

"  You  trust  yourself  willingly  ?  " 

"  As  to  my  second  brother.  You  hear  them  ?  How 
delightfully  quick  and  spontaneous  they  are  !  Ah,  silly 
creatures  !  they  have  stopped.  They  might  have  held  it 
on  for  us  while  we  were  passing." 

"  Where  would  the  naturalness  have  been  then  ?  " 

"Perhaps,  M.  Nevil,  1  do  want  commanding.  I  am 
wilful.  Half  my  days  will  be  spent  in  fits  of  remorse,  I 
begin  to  think." 

"Come  to  me  to  be  forgiven." 

"Shall  I?    I  should  be  forgiven  too  readily." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that." 

"Can  you  be  harsh?  ISTo,  not  even  with  enemies. 
Least  of  all  with  .   .   .  with  us." 

Oh  for  the  black  gondola !  —  the  little  gliding  dusky 
chamber  for  two;  instead  of  this  open,  flaunting,  gold 
and  crimson  cotton-work,  which  exacted  discretion  on  his 
part  and  that  of  the  mannerly  gondoliers,  and  exposed 
him  to  window,  balcony,  bridge,  and  borderway. 

They  slipped  on  beneath  a  red  balcony  where  a  girl 
leaned  on  her  folded  arms,  and  eyed  them  coming  and 
going  by  with  Egyptian  gravity. 

"  How  strange  a  power  of  looking  these  people  have,"  said 
Eenee,  whose  vivacity  was  fascinated  to  a  steady  sparkle 
by  the  girl.     "  Tell  me,  is  she  glancing  round  at  us  ?  " 

Nevil  turned  and  reported  that  she  was  not.  She  had 
exhausted  them  while  they  were  in  transit;  she  had  no 
minor  curiosity. 

"Let  us  fancy  she  is  looking  for  her  lover,"  he  said. 

Eenee  added:  "Let  us  hope  she  will  not  escape  being 
seen." 

"I  give  her  my  benediction,"  said  Nevil. 

"  And  I, "  said  Renee ;  "  and  adieu  to  her,  if  you  please. 
Look  for  Roland." 

"You  remind  me;  I  have  but  a  few  instants." 

"  M.  Nevil,  you  are  a  preux  of  the  times  of  my  brother's 
patronymic.  And  there  is  my  Roland  awaiting  us.  Is  he 
not  handsome  ?  " 

"  How  glad  you  are  to  have  him  to  relieve  guard  I  *' 


LOVE  IN  VENICE  47 

Renee  bent  on  Nevil  one  of  her  singular  looks  of  rail- 
lery. She  had  hitherto  been  fencing  at  a  serious  dis- 
advantage. 

"Not  so  very  glad,"  she  said,  "if  that  deprived  me  of 
the  presence  of  his  friend." 

Roland  was  her  tower.  But  Koland  was  not  yet  on 
board.  She  had  peeped  from  her  citadel  too  rashly. 
Nevil  had  time  to  spring  the  flood  of  crimson  in  her 
cheeks,  bright  as  the  awning  she  reclined  under. 

"  Would  you  have  me  with  you  always  ?  " 

"Assuredly,"  said  she,  feeling  the  hawk  in  him,  and 
trying  to  baffle  him  by  fluttering. 

"  Always  ?  for  ever  ?  and  —  listen  —  give  me  a  title  ?  " 

Renee  sang  out  to  Roland  like  a  bird  in  distress,  and 
had  some  trouble  not  to  appear  too  providentially  rescued. 
Roland  on  board,  she  resumed  the  attack. 

"M.  Nevil  vows  he  is  a  better  brother  to  me  than  you, 
who  dart  away  on  an  impulse  and  leave  us  threading  all 
Venice  till  we  do  not  know  where  we  are,  naughty 
brother ! " 

"My  little  sister,  the  spot  where  you  are,"  rejoined 
Roland,  "is  precisely  the  spot  where  I  left  you,  and  I 
defy  you  to  say  you  have  gone  on  without  me.  This  is 
the  identical  riva  I  stepped  out  on  to  buy  you  a  packet 
of  Venetian  ballads." 

They  recognized  the  spot,  and  for  a  confirmation  of  the 
surprising  statement,  Roland  unrolled  several  sheets  of 
printed  blotting-paper,  and  rapidly  read  part  of  a  Canzo- 
netta  concerning  Una  Giovine  who  reproved  her  lover  for 
his  extreme  addiction  to  wine :  — 


"  Ma  sh,  ma  sh, 
Cotanto  beve, 
Mi  no,  mi  no. 
No  ve  sposerb/' 

"This  astounding  vagabond  preferred  Nostrani  to  his 
heart's  mistress.  I  tasted  some  of  their  Nostrani  to  see 
if  it  could  be  possible  for  a  Frenchman  to  exonerate  him." 

Roland's  wry  face  at  the  mention  of  Nostrani  brought 
out  the  chief  gondolier,  who  delivered  himself :  — 


48  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEEE 

"Signore,  there  be  hereditary  qualifications.  One  must 
be  born  Italian  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  Nostrani  ! '' 

Koland  laughed.  He  had  covered  his  delinquency  in 
leaving  his  sister,  and  was  full  of  an  adventure  to  relate 
to  Kevil,  a  story  promising  well  for  him. 


CHAPTER   VII 

AN   AWAKENING   FOR   BOTH 


Een^e  was  downcast.  Had  she  not  coquetted?  The 
dear  young  Englishman  had  reduced  her  to  defend  herself, 
the  which  fair  ladies,  like  besieged  garrisons,  cannot 
always  do  successfully  without  an  attack  at  times,  which, 
when  the  pursuer  is  ardent,  is  followed  by  a  retreat,  which 
is  a  provocation;  and  these  things  are  coquetry.  Her 
still  fresh  convent-conscience  accused  her  of  it  pitilessly. 
She  could  not  forgive  her  brother,  and  yet  she  dared  not 
reproach  him,  for  that  would  have  inculpated  Nevil.  She 
stepped  on  to  the  Piazzetta  thoughtfully.  Her  father  was 
at  Florian's,  perusing  letters  from  France.  "We  are  to 
have  the  marquis  here  in  a  week,  my  child,"  he  said. 
Renee  nodded.  Involuntarily  she  looked  at  Nevil.  He 
caught  the  look,  with  a  lover's  quick  sense  of  misfortune 
in  it. 

She  heard  her  brother  reply  to  him  :  "  Who  ?  the  Mar- 
quis de  Rouaillout?  It  is  a  jolly  gaillard  of  fifty  who 
spoils  no  fun." 

"You  mistake  his  age,  Eoland,"  she  said. 

"Forty -nine,  then,  my  sister." 

"He  is  not  that." 

"He  looks  it." 

"You  have  been  absent." 

"  Probably,  my  arithmetical  sister,  he  has  employed  the 
interval  to  grow  younger.  They  say  it  is  the  way  with 
green  gentlemen  of  a  certain  age.  They  advance  and  they 
retire.  They  perform  the  first  steps  of  a  quadrille  cere- 
moniously, and  we  admire  them." 


A^  AWAKEmKG  FOR  BOTH  49 

that?"  exclaimed  the  Comte  de  Croisnel. 
"You  talk  nonsense,  Roland.  M.  le  Marquis  is  hardly 
past  forty.     He  is  in  his  prime." 

"  Without  question,  mou  pere.  For  me,  I  was  merely 
offering  proof  that  he  can  preserve  his  prime  unlimitedly." 

"He  is  not  a  subject  for  mockery,  Roland." 

"  Quite  the  contrary ;  —  for  reverence  !  " 

"Another  than  you,  my  boy,  and  he  would  march  you 
out." 

"I  am  to  imagine,  then,  that  his  hand  continues  firm?" 

"  Imagine  to  the  extent  of  your  capacity ;  but  remember 
that  respect  is  always  owing  to  your  own  family,  and  de- 
liberate before  you  draw  on  yourself  such  a  chastisement 
as  mercy  from  an  accepted  member  of  it." 

Roland  bowed  and  drummed  on  his  knee. 

The  conversation  had  been  originated  by  Renee  for  the 
enlightenment  of  Nevil  and  as  a  future  protection  to  her- 
self. Now  that  it  had  disclosed  its  burden  she  could  look 
at  him  no  more,  and  when  her  father  addressed  her  sig- 
nificantly :  "  Marquise,  you  did  me  the  honour  to  consent  to 
accompany  me  to  the  Church  of  the  Frari  this  afternoon  ?  " 
she  felt  her  self -accusation  of  coquetry  biting  under  her 
bosom  like  a  thing  alive. 

Roland  explained  the  situation  to  Nevil. 

"  It  is  the  mania  with  us,  my  dear  Nevil,  to  marry  our 
girls  young  to  established  men.  Your  established  man 
carries  usually  all  the  signs,  visible  to  the  multitude  or 
not,  of  the  stages  leading  to  that  eminence.  We  cannot, 
I  believe,  unless  we  have  the  good  fortune  to  boast  the 
paternity  of  Hercules,  disconnect  ourselves  from  the  steps 
we  have  mounted;  not  even,  the  priests  inform  us,  if  we 
are  ascending  to  heaven;  we  carry  them  beyond  the  grave. 
However,  it  seems  that  our  excellent  marquis  contrives  to 
keep  them  concealed,  and  he  is  ready  to  face  marriage  — 
the  Grandest  Inquisitor,  next  to  Death.  Two  furious 
matchmakers  —  our  country,  beautiful  France,  abounds  in 
them  —  met  one  day;  they  were  a  comtesse  and  a  baronne, 
and  they  settled  the  alliance.  The  bell  was  rung,  and 
Renee  came  out  of  school.  There  is  this  to  be  said :  she 
has  no  mother;  the  sooner  a  girl  without  a  mother  has  a 
husband  the  better.     That  we  are  all  agreed  upon.     I  have 

4 


60  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

no  personal  objection  to  the  marquis ;  he  has  never  been  in 
any  great  scandals.  He  is  Norman,  and  has  estates  in 
Normandy,  Dauphiny,  Touraine;  he  is  hospitable,  luxu- 
rious. Renee  will  have  a  fine  hotel  in  Paris.  But  I  am 
eccentric:  I  have  read  in  our  old  Fabliaux  of  December 
and  May.  Say  the  marquis  is  November,  say  October; 
he  is  still  some  distance  removed  from  the  plump  Spring 
month.  And  we  in  our  family  have  wits  and  passions. 
In  fine,  a  bud  of  a  rose  in  an  old  gentleman's  button- 
hole! it  is  a  challenge  to  the  whole  world  of  youth; 
and  if  the  bud  should  leap?  Enough  of  this  matter,* 
friend  Nevil;  but  sometimes  a  friend  must  allow  him- 
self to  be  bothered.  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  my 
sister,  you  see ;  1  simply  protest  against  her  being  exposed 
to  .  .  .  You  know  men.  I  protest,  that  is,  in  the  privacy 
of  my  cigar-case,  for  I  have  no  chance  elsewhere.  The 
affair  is  on  wheels.  The  very  respectable  matchmakers 
have  kindled  the  marquis  on  the  one  hand,  and  my  father 
on  the  other,  and  Renee  passes  obediently  from  the  latter 
to  the  former.  In  India  they  sacrifice  the  widows,  in 
France  the  virgins." 

Roland  proceeded  to  relate  his  adventure.  Nevil's 
inattention  piqued  him  to  salt  and  salt  it  wonderfully, 
until  the  old  story  of  He  and  She  had  an  exciting  savour 
in  its  introductory  chapter;  but  his  friend  was  flying 
through  the  circles  of  the  Inferno,  and  the  babble  of  an 
ephemeral  upper  world  simply  affected  him  by  its  contrast 
with  the  overpowering  horrors,  repugnances,  despairs, 
pities,  rushing  at  him,  surcharging  his  senses.  Those 
that  live  much  by  the  heart  in  their  youth  have  sharp  fore- 
tastes of  the  issues  imaged  for  the  soul.  St.  Mark's  was 
in  a  minute  struck  black  for  him.  He  neither  felt  the 
sunlight  nor  understood  why  column  and  campanile  rose, 
nor  why  the  islands  basked,  and  boats  and  people  moved. 
All  were  as  remote  little  bits  of  mechanism. 

Nevil  escaped,  and  walked  in  the  direction  of  the  Frari 
down  calle  and  campiello.  Only  to  see  her  —  to  compare 
her  with  the  Renee  of  the  past  hour!  But  that  Renee  had 
been  all  the  while  a  feast  of  delusion;  she  could  never  be 
resuscitated  in  the  shape  he  had  known,  not  even  clearly 
visioned.     Not  a  day  of  her,  not  an  hour,  not  a  single  look 


AN  AWAKENING  FOR  BOTH  61 

had  been  his  own.  She  had  been  sold  when  he  first  beheld 
her,  and  should,  he  muttered  austerely,  have  been  ticketed 
the  property  of  a  middle-aged  man,  a  worn-out  French 
marquis,  whom  she  had  agreed  to  marry,  unwooed,  without 
love  —  the  creature  of  a  transaction.  But  she  was  inno- 
cent, she  was  unaware  of  the  sin  residing  in  a  loveless 
matriage;  and  this  restored  her  to  him  somewhat  as. a 
drowned  body  is  given  back  to  mourners. 

After  aimless  walking  he  found  himself  on  the  Zattere, 
where  the  lonely  Giudecca  lies  in  front,  covering  mud  and 
marsh  and  lagune-flames  of  later  afternoon,  and  you  have 
sight  of  the  high  mainland  hills  which  seem  to  fling  forth 
one  over  other  to  a  golden  sea-cape. 

Midway  on  this  unadorned  Zattere,  with  its  young  trees 
and  spots  of  shade,  he  was  met  by  Renee  and  her  father. 
Their  gondola  was  below,  close  to  the  riva,  and  the  count 
said :  "  She  is  tired  of  standing  gazing  at  pictures.  There 
is  a  Veronese  in  one  of  the  churches  of  the  Giudecca  oppo- 
site. Will  you,  M.  Nevil,  act  as  parade-escort  to  her  here 
for  half  an  hour,  while  I  go  over?  Ren^e  complains  that 
she  loses  the  vulgar  art  of  walking  in  her  complaisant 
attention  to  the  fine  Arts.     I  weary  my  poor  child." 

Renee  protested  in  a  rapid  chatter. 

"Must  I  avow  it?"  said  the  count;  "she  damps  my 
enthusiasm  a  little." 

Nevil  mutely  accepted  the  office. 

Twice  that  day  was  she  surrendered  to  him :  once  in  his 
ignorance,  when  time  appeared  an  expanse  of  many  sunny 
fields.  On  this  occasion  it  puffed  steam;  yet  after  seeing 
the  count  embark,  he  commenced  the  parade  in  silence. 

"This  is  a  nice  walk,"  said  Renee;  "we  have  not  the 
steps  of  the  Riva  dei  Schiavoni.  It  is  rather  melancholy 
though.  How  did  you  discover  it  ?  I  persuaded  my  papa 
to  send  the  gondola  round,  and  walk  till  we  came  to  the 
water.     Tell  me  about  the  Giudecca." 

"  The  Giudecca  was  a  place  kept  apart  for  the  Jews,  I 
believe.  You  have  seen  their  burial-ground  on  the  Lido. 
Those  are,  I  think,  the  Euganean  hills.  You  are  fond  of 
Petrarch." 

"  M.  Nevil,  omitting  the  allusion  to  the  poet,  you  have, 


52  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

permit  me  to  remark,  the  brevity  without  the  precision  of 
an  accredited  guide  to  notabilities." 

"I  tell  you  what  I  know,"  said  Nevil,  brooding  on  the 
finished  tone  and  womanly  aplomb  of  her  language.  It 
made  -him  forget  that  she  was  a  girl  entrusted  to  his 
guardianship.     His  heart  came  out. 

"Eenee,  if  you  loved  him,  I,  on-»my  honour,  wopld  not 
utter  a  word  for  myself.  Your  heart's  inclinations  are 
sacred  for  me.  I  would  stand  by,  and  be  your  friend  and 
his.     If  he  were  young,  that  I  might  see  a  chance  of  it !  " 

She  murmured,  "  You  should  not  have  listened  to 
Roland." 

''Eoland  should  have  warned  me.  How  could  I  be  near 
you  and  not  .  .  .  But  I  am  nothing.  Forget  me ;  do  not 
think  I  speak  interestedly,  except  to  save  the  dearest  I 
have  ever  known  from  certain  wretchedness.  To  yield 
yourself  hand  and  foot  for  life  !  I  warn  you  that  it  must 
end  miserably.  Your  countrywomen  .  .  .  You  have  the 
habit  in  France ;  but  like  what  are  you  treated  ?  You  ! 
none  like  you  in  the  whole  world !  You  consent  to  be 
extinguished.  And  I  have  to  look  on  !  Listen  to  me 
now." 

Redee  glanped  at  the  gondola  conveying  her  father. 
And  he  has  not  yet  landed!  she  thought,  and  said,  "Do 
you  pretend  to  judge  of  my  welfare  better  than  my  papa  ?  " 

"Yes;  in  this.  He  follows  a  fashion.  You  submit  to 
it.  His  anxiety  is  to  provide  for  you.  But  I  know  the 
system  is  cursed  by  nature,  and  that  means  by  heaven." 

"  Because  it  is  not  English  ?  " 

*'  0  Renee,  my  beloved  for  ever !  Well,  then,  tell  me, 
tell  me  you  can  say  with  pride  and  happiness  that  the 
Marquis  de  Rouaillout  is  to  be  your  —  there  's  the  word  — 
husband ! " 

Renee  looked  across  the  water. 

"  Friend,  if  my  father  knew  you  were  asking  me  !  " 

"I  will  speak  to  him." 
-     "Useless." 

"He  is  generous,  he  loves  you." 

"He  cannot  break  an  engagement  binding  his  honour." 

"  Would  you,  Renee,  would  you  —  it  must  be   said  — 


AN  AWAKE2!n:NG  FOR  BOTH  63 

consent  to  have  it  known  to  him  —  I  beg  for  more  than  life 
—  that  you  are  not  averse  .   .  .  that  you  support  me  ?  " 

His  failing  breath  softened  the  bluntness. 

She  replied^  "I  would  not  have  him  ever  break  an 
engagement  .binding  his  honour." 

"You  stretch  the  point  of  honour." 

"It  is  our  way.  Dear  friend,  we  are  French.  And  I 
presume  to  think  that  our  French  system  is  not  always 
wrong,  for  if  my  father  had  not  broken  it  by  treating  you 
as  one  of  us  and  leaving  me  with  you,  should  I  have 
heard  .   .   .?" 

"I  have  displeased  you." 

"Do  not  suppose  that.  But,  I  mean,  a  mother  would 
not  have  left  me." 

"You  wished  to  avoid  it." 

"Do  not  blame  me.  I  had  some  instinct;  you  were 
very  pale." 

"You  knew  I  loved  you." 

"No." 

"Yes;  for  this  morning  ..." 

"  This  morning  it  seemed  to  me,  and  T  regretted  'my 
fancy,  that  you  were  inclined  to  trifle,  as,  they  say,  young 
men  do." 

"WithRende?" 

"  With  your  friend  Renee.  And  those  are  the  hills  of 
Petrarch's  tomb?     They  are  mountains." 

They  were  purple  beneath  a  large  brooding  cloud  that 
hung  against  the  sun,  waiting  for  him  to  enfold  hiin,  and 
Nevil  thought  that  a  tomb  there  would  be  a  welcome  end, 
if  he  might  lift  Renee  in  one  wild  flight  over  the  chasm 
gaping  for  her.  He  had  no  language  for  thoughts  of  such 
a  kind,  only  tumultuous  feeling.' 

She  was  immoveable,  in  perfect  armour. 

He  said  despairingly,  "  Can  you  have  realized  what  you 
are  consenting  to  ?  " 

She  answered,  "It  is  my  duty." 

"Your  duty  !  it 's  like  taking  up  a  dice-box,  and  flinging 
once,  to  certain  ruin  !  " 

"  I  must  oppose  my  father  to  you,  friend.  Do  you  not 
understand  duty  to  parents  ?  They  say  the  English  are 
full  of  the  idea  of  duty."  > 


54  BEATJCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"Duty  to  country,  duty  to  oaths  and  obligations;  but 
with  us  the  heart  is  free  to  choose. '' 

"  Free  to  choose ,  and  when  it  is  most  ignorant  ?,  " 

" The  heart  ?  ask  it.     Nothing  is  surer."  ^ 

"  That  is  not  what  we  are  taught.  We  are  taught  that 
the  heart  deceives  itself.  The  heart  throws  your  dice-box ; 
not  prudent  parents." 

She  talked  like  a  woman,  to  plead  the  cause  of  her 
obedience  as  a  girl,  and  now  silenced  in  the  same  manner 
that  she  had  previously  excited  him. 

"Then  you  are  lost  to  me,"  he  said. 

They  saw  the  gondola  returning.  s  '  ■ 

"How  swiftly  it  comes  home;  it  loitered  when  it  went," 
said  Renee.  "There  sits  my  father,  brimming  with  his 
picture;  he  has  seen  one  more!  We  will  congratulate 
him.  This  little  boulevard  is  not  much  to  speak  of. 
The  hills  are  lovely.  Friend,"  she  dropped  her  voice  on 
the  gondola's  approach,  "we  have  conversed  on  common 
subjects." 

Nevil  had  her  hand  in  his,  to  place  her  in  the  gondola. 

She  seemed  thankful  that  he  should  prefer  to  go  round 
on  foot.  At  least,  she  did  not  join  in  her  father's  invita- 
tion to  him.  She  leaned  back,  nestling  her  chin  and  half 
closing  her  eyes,  suffering  herself  to  be  divided  from  him, 
borne  away  by  forces  she  acquiesced  in.  * 

Eoland  was  not  visible  till  near  midnight  on  the  Piazza. 
The  promenaders,  chiefly  military  of  the  garrison,  were 
few  at  that  period  of  social  protestation,  and  he  could  de- 
clare his  disappointment  aloud,  ringingly,  as  he  strolled 
up  to  Nevil ,  looking  as  if  the  cigar  in  his  mouth  and  the 
fists  entrenched  in  his  wide  trowsers-pockets  were  mor- 
tally at  feud.  His  adventure  had  not  pursued  its  course 
luminously.  He  had  expected  romance,  and  had  met 
merchandize,  and  his  vanity  was  offended.  To  pacify 
him,  Nevil  related  how  he  had  heard  that  since  the  Vene- 
tian rising  of  '49,  Venetian  ladies  had  issued  from  the 
ordeal  of  fire  and  famine  of  another  pattern  than  the 
famous  old  Benzon  one,  in  which  they  touched  earthiest 
earth.  He  praised  Republicanism  for  that.  The  spirit  of 
the  new  and  short-lived  Republic  wrought  that  change  in 
Venice. 


AN  AWAKENING  FOR   BOTH  55 

"Oh,  if  they  're  republican  as  well  as  utterly  decayed," 
said  Koland,  "I  give  them  up;  let  them  die  virtuous." 

Nevil  told  Koland  that  he  had  spoken  to  Kenee.  He 
won  sympathy,  but  Roland  could>  not  give  him  encourage- 
ment. They  crossed  and  recrossed  the  shadow  of  the  great 
campanile,  on  the  warm-white  stones  of  the  square,  Nevil 
admitting  the  weight  of  whatsoever  Roland  pointed  to  him 
in  favour  of  the  arrangement  according  to  French  notions, 
and  indeed,  of  aristocratic  notions  everywhere,  saving  that 
it  waTs  imperative  for  Ren^e  to  be  disposed  of  in  marriage 
-early.  Why^tob  her  of  her  young  springtime! 
'  '"^^rench  girls,"  replied  Roland,  confused  by  the  nature 
of  the  explication  in  his  head  —  "  well,  they  're  not  English ; 
they  want  a  hand  to  shape  them,  otherwise  they  grow  all 
awry.  My  father  will  not  have  one  of  her  aunts  to  live 
with  him,  so  there  she  is.  But,  my  dear  Nevil,  I  owe  my 
life  to  you,  and  I  was  no  party  to  this  affair.  I  would  do 
anything  to  help  you.     What  says  Renee  ?  " 

"She  obeys." 

"  Exactly.  You  see !  Our  girls  are  chess-pieces  until 
they're  married.  Then,  they  have  life  and  character; 
sometimes  too  much." 

"She  is  not  like  them,  Roland;  she  is  like  none.  When 
I  spoke  to  her  first,  she  affected  no  astonishment;  never 
was  there  a-  creature  so  nobly  sincere.  She  's-  a  girl  in 
heart,  not  in  mind.  Think  of  her  sacrificed  to  this  man 
thrice  her  age  ! " 

"  She  differs  from  other  girls  only  on  the  surface,  Nevil. 
As  for  the  man,  I  wish  she  were  going  to  marry  a  younger. 
I  wish,  yes,  my  friend,"  Roland  squeezed  Nevil 's  hand, 
"I  wish  !  I  'm  afraid  it 's  hopeless.  She  did  .pot  tell  you 
to  hope  ?  " 

"Not  by  one  single  sign,"  said  Nevil.    » 

"  You  see,  my  friend  1 "  • 

"For  that  reason,"  Nevil  rejoined,  with  the  calm  fanati- 
cism of  the  passion  of  love,  "I  hope  all  the  more  .  .  . 
because  I  will  not  believe  that  she,  so  pure  and  good,  can 
be  sacrificed.  Put  me  aside  —  I  am  nothing.  I  hope  to 
save  her  from  that." 

"We  have  now,"  said  Roland,  "struck  the  current  of 
duplicity.     You  are  really  in  love,  my  poor  fellow." 


56  BEAtrCHAMP's   CAREER 

Lover  and  friend  came  to  no  conclusion,  except  that  so 
lovely  a  night  was  not  given  lor  slumber.  A  small  round 
brilliant  moon  hung  almost  globed  in  the  depths  of  heaven, 
and  the  image  of  it  fell  deep  between  San  Giorgio  and  the 
Dogana. 

Renee  had  the  scene  from  her  window,  like  a  dream 
given  out  of  sleep.  She  lay  with  both  arms  thrown  up 
beneath  her  head  on  the  pillow,  her  eyelids  wide  open,  and 
her  visage  set  and  stern.  Her  bosom  rose  and  sank  regu- 
larly but  heavily.  The  fluctuations  of  a  night  stormy  for 
her,  hitherto  unknown,  had  sunk  her  to  this  trance,  in 
which  she  lay  like  a  creature  flung  on  shore  by  the  waves. 
She  heard  her  brother's  voice  and  Nevil's,  and  the  pacing 
of  their  feet.  She  saw  the  long  shaft  of  moonlight  broken 
to  zigzags  of  mellow  lightning,  and  wavering  back  to 
steadiness;  dark  San  Giorgio,  and  the  sheen  of  the 
Dogana's  front.  But  the  visible  beauty  belonged  to  a  night 
that  had  shivered  repose,  humiliated  and  wounded  her, 
destroyed  her  confident  happy  half-infancy  of  heart,  and 
she  had  flown  for  a  refuge  to  hard  feelings.  Her  predom- 
inant sentiment  was  anger;  an  anger  that  touched  all  and 
enveloped  none,  for  it  was  quite  fictitious,  though  she  felt 
it,  and  suffered  from  it.  She  turned  it  on  Nevil  as  against 
an  enemy,  and  became  the  victim  in  his  place.  Tears  for 
him  filled  in  her  eyes,  and  ran  over;  she  disdained  to 
notice  them,  and  blinked  offendedly  to  have  her  sight  clear 
of  the  weakness ;  but  these  interceding  tears  would  flow ; 
it  was  dangerous  to  blame  him  harshly.  She  let  them  roll 
down,  figuring  to  herself  with  quiet  simplicity  of  mind 
that  her  spirit  was  independent  of  them  as  long  as  she 
restrained  her  hands  from  being  accomplices  by  brushing 
them  away,  as  weeping  girls  do  that  cry  for  comfort. 
Nevil  had  saved  her  brother's  life,  and  had  succoured  her 
countrymen;  he  loved  her,  and  was  a  hero.  He  should 
not  have  said  he  loved  her;  that  was  wrong;  and  it  was 
shameful  that  he  should  have  urged  her  to  disobey  her 
father.  But  this  hero's  love  of  her  might  plead  excuses 
she  did  not  know  of;  and  if  he  was  to  be  excused,  he,  un- 
happy that  he  was,  had  a  claim  on  her  for  more  than  tears. 
She  wept  resentfully.  Forces  above  her  own  swayed  and 
hurried  her  like  a  lifeless  body  dragged  by  flying  wheels ; 


A  KIGHT  ON  THE  ADRIATIC  57 

they  could  not  unnerve  her  will,  or  rather,  what  it  really 
was,  her  sense  of  submission  to  a  destiny.  Looked  at 
from  the  height  of  the  palm-waving  cherubs  over  the 
fallen  martyr  in  the  picture,  she  seemed  as  nerveless  as  a 
dreamy  girl.  The  raised  arms  and  bent  elbows  were  an 
illusion  of  indifference.  Her  shape  was  rigid  from  hands 
to  feet,  as  if  to  keep  in  a  knot  the  resolution  of  her  mind; 
for  the  second  and  in  that  young  season  the  stronger  nature 
grafted  by  her  education  fixed  her  to  the  religious  duty  of 
obeying  and  pleasing  her  father,  in  contempt,  almost  in 
abhorrence,  of  personal  inclinations  tending  to  thwart  him 
and  imperil  his  pledged  word.  She  knew  she  had  incli- 
nations to  be  tender.  Her  hands  released,  how  promptly 
might  she  not  have  been  confiding  her  innumerable  per- 
plexities of  sentiment  and  emotion  to  paper,  undermining 
self-governance ;  self-respect,  perhaps !  Further  than  that, 
she  did  not  understand  the  feelings  she  struggled  with;  nor 
had  she  any  impulse  to  gaze  on  him,  the  cause  of  her  trouble, 
who  walked  beside  her  brother  below,  talking  between- 
whiles  in  the  night's  grave  undertones.  Her  trouble  was 
too  overmastering;  it  had  seized  her  too  mysteriously,  com- 
ing on  her  solitariness  without  warning  in  the  first  watch 
of  the  night,  like  a  spark  crackling  serpentine  along  dry 
leaves  to  sudden  flame.  A  thought  of  Nevil  and  a  regret 
had  done  it. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A   NIGHT    ON   THE   ADRIATIC 

The  lovers  met  after  Roland  had  spoken  to  his  sister  — 
n'ot  exactly  to  advocate  the  cause  of  Nevil,  though  he  was 
under  the  influence  of  that  grave  night's  walk  with  him, 
but  to  sound  her  and  see  whether  she  at  all  shared  NeviPs 
view  of  her  situation.  Roland  felt  the  awfulness  of  a 
French  family  arrangement  of  a  marriage,  and  the  imper- 
tinence of  a  foreign  Cupid's  intrusion,  too  keenly  to  plead 
for  his  friend :  at  the  same  time  he  loved  his  friend  and 
his  sister,  and  would  have  been  very  ready  to  smile  bless- 


58  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

ings  on  them  if  favourable  circumstances  had  raised  a 
signal;  if,  for  example,  apoplexy  or  any  other  cordial  ex 
machina  intervention  had  removed  the  middle-aged  mar- 
quis; and,  perhaps,  if  Renee  had  shown  the  repugnance 
to  her  engagement  which  Nevil  declared  she  must  have  in 
her  heart,  he  would  have  done  more  than  smile ;  he  would 
have  laid  the  case  deferentially  before  his  father.  His 
own  opinion  was  that  young  unmarried  women  were  in- 
capable of  the  passion  of  love,  being,  as  it  were,  but  half- 
feathered  in  that  state,  and  unable  to  fly;  and  Renee 
confirmed  it.  The  suspicion  of  an  advocacy  on  Nevil's 
behalf  steeled  her.  His  tentative  observations  were 
checked  at  the  outset. 

"  Can  such  things  be  spoken  of  to  me,  Eoland  ?  I  am 
plighted.     You  know  it." 

He  shrugged,  said  a  word  of  pity  for  Nevil,  and  went 
forth  to  let  his  friend  know  that  it  was  as  he  had  predicted : 
Renee  was  obedience  in  person,  like  a  rightly  educated 
French  girl.  He  strongly  advised  his  friend  to  banish  alL 
hope  of  her  from  his  mind.  But  the  mind  he  addressed 
was  of  a  curious  order;  far-shooting,  tough,  persistent^ 
and  when  acted  on  by  the  spell  of  devotion,  indomitable^ 
Nevil  put  hope  aside,  or  rather,  he  clad  it  in  other  gar- 
ments, in  which  it  was  hardly  to  be  recognized  by  himself, 
and  said  to  Roland:  "You  must  bear  this  from  me;  you 
must  let  me  follow  you  to  the  end,  and  if  she  wavers  she 
will  find  me  near." 

Roland  could  not  avoid  asking  the  use  of  it,  considering 
that  Ren^e,  however  much  she  admired  and  liked,  was  not 
in  love  with  him. 

Nevil  resigned  himself  to  admit  that  she  was  not :  "  and 
therefore,"  said  he,  "you  won't  object  to  my  remaining." 

Renee  greeted  Nevil  with  as  clear  a  conventional  air  as 
a  woman  could  assume. 

She  was  going,  she  said,  to  attend  High  Mass  in  the» 
Church  of  S.  Moise,  and  she  waved  her  devoutest  Roman 
Catholicism  to  show  the  breadth  of  the  division  between 
them.  He  proposed  to  go  likewise.  She  was.  mute. 
After  some  discourse  she  contrived  to  say  inoffensively 
that  people  who  strolled  into  her  churches  for  the  music, 
or  out  of  curiosity,  played  the  barbarian. 


A  NIGHT  OK  THE  ADRIATIC  69 

"Well,  I  will  not  go,"  said  Nevil. 

"But  I  do  not  wish  to  number  you  among  them,"  she 
said. 

"Then,"  said  Nevil,  "I  will  go,  for  it  cannot  be  bar- 
barous to  try  to  be  with  you." 

"No,  that  is  wickedness,"  said  Renee. 

She  was  sensible  that   conversation   betrayed  her,  and 
.NeviFs  apparently  deliberate  pursuit  signified  to  her  that 
he  must  be  aware  of  his  mastery,  and  she  resented  it,  and 
stumbled  into  pitfalls  whenever  she  opened  her  lips.     It 
seemed  to  be  denied  to  them  to  utter  what  she  meant,  if 
indeed  she  had  a  meaning  in  speaking,  save  to  hurt  herself 
cruelly  by  wounding  the  man  who  had  caught  her  in  the 
toils :  and  so  long  as  she  could  imagine  that  she  was  the 
-only  one  hurt,  she  was  the  braver  and  the  harsher  for  it; 
but  at  the  sight  of  Nevil  in  pain ,  her  heart  relented  and 
sliifted,  and  discovering  it  to  be  so  weak  as  to  be  almost 
at  his  mercy,  she  defended  it  with  an  aggressive  unkind- 
ness,  for  which,  in  charity  to  her  sweeter  nature,  she  had . 
t©  ask  his  pardon,  and  then  had  to  fib  to  give  reasons  for 
her  conduct,  and  then  to  pretend  to  herself  that  her  pride 
was  humbled  by  him ;  a  most  humiliating  round,  constantly 
recurring;  the  worse  for  the  reflection  that  she  created  it. 
She  attempted  silence.     Nevil   spoke,  and  was   like  the 
maCgical    piper:    she   was   compelled  to   follow   him   and 
4ance  the  round  again,  with  the  wretched  thought  that 
it  must  resemble  coquetry.     Nevil  did  not  think  so,  but  a 
.very  attentive  observer  now  upon  the  scene,  and  possessed 
of  his  half  of  the  secret,  did,  and  warned  him.     Rosamund 
Culling  added  that  the  French  girl  might  be  only  an  uncon- 
scious coquette,  for  she  was  young.     The  critic  would  not 
undertake   to  pronounce  on  her  suggestion,  whether  the 
candour  apparent  in  merely  coquettish  instincts  was  not 
more   dangerous  than  a  battery  of  the  arts  of  the   sex. 
She  had  heard  NeviPs  frank  confession,  and  seen  Renee 
twice,  when  she  tried  in  his  service,  though  not  greatly 
wishing  for  success,  to  stir  the  sensitive  girl  for  an  answer 
to  his  attachment.     Probably  she  went  to  work  transpar- 
ently,   after  the   insular  fashion  of  opening  a  spiritual 
mystery  with  the  lancet.     Renee  suffered  herself  to  be 
probed   here   and   there,    and   revealed   nothing   of    the 


60  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

pain  of  the  operation.     She  said  to  Nevil,  in  Rosamund's 
hearing,  — 

"  Have  you  the  sense  of  honour  acute  in  your  country?  " 

Nevil  inquired  for  the  apropos. 

"None/'  said  she. 

Such  pointed  insolence  disposed  Eosamund  to  an  irrita- 
ble antagonism,  without  reminding  her  that  she  had  given 
some  cause  for  it. 

Renee  said  to  her  presently,  "He  saved  my  brother's 
life ;  "  the  apropos  being  as  little  perceptible  as  before. 

Her  voice  dropped  to  her  sweetest  deep  tones,  and  there 
was  a  supplicating  beam  in  her  eyes,  unintelligible  to  the 
direct  Englishwoman,  except  under  the  heading  of  a  power 
of  witchery  fearful  to  think  of  in  one  so  young,  and  loved 
by  Nevil. 

The  look  was  turned  upon  her,  not  upon  her  hero,  and 
Eosamund  thought,  "Does  she  want  to  entangle  me  as 
well  ?  " 

It  was,  in  truth,  a  look  of  entreaty  from  woman  to 
woman,  signifying  need  of  womanly  help.  Eenee  would 
have  made  a  confidante  of  her,  if  she  had  not  known  her 
to  be  Nevil's,  and  devoted  to  him.  "I  would  speak  to 
you,  but  that  I  feel  you  would  betray  me,"  her  eyes  had 
said.  The  strong  sincerity  dwelling  amid  multiform  com- 
plexities might  have  made  itself  comprehensible  to  the 
English  lady  for  a  moment  or  so,  had  Eenee  spoken  words 
to  her  ears;  but  belief  in  it  would  hardly  have  survived 
the  girl's  next  convolutions.  "She  is  intensely  French," 
Eosamund  said  to  Nevil  —  a  volume  of  insular  criticism  in 
a  sentence. 

"  You  do  not  know  her,  ma'am, "  said  Nevil.  "  You  think 
her  older  than  she  is,  and  that  is  the  error  I  fell  into. 
She  is  a  child." 

"  A  serpent  in  the  egg  is  none  the  less  a  serpent,  Nevil. 
Forgive  me ;  but  when  she  tells  you  the  case  is  hopeless ! " 

"No  case  is  hopeless  till  a  man  consents  to  think  it  is; 
and  I  shall  stay." 

"But  then  again,  Nevil,  you  have  not  consulted  your 
uncle." 

"Let  him  see  her  !  let  him  only  see  her  !  " 

Eosamund  Culling  reserved  her  opinion  compassionately. 


A  NIGHT   ON  THE  ADRIATIC  61 

His  uncle  would  soon  be  calling  to  have  him  home :  society 
panted  for  him  to  make  much  of  him :  and  here  he  was, 
cursed  by  one  of  his  notions  of  duty,  in  attendance  on  a 
captious  young  French  beauty,  who  was  the  less  to  be 
excused  for  not  dismissing  him  peremptoril}^,  if  she  cared 
for  him  at  all.  His  career,  which  promised  to  be  so  bril- 
liant, was  spoiling  at  the  outset.  Rosamund  thought  of 
Renee  almost  with  detestation,  as  a  species  of  sorceress 
that  had  dug  a  trench  in  her  hero's  road,  and  unhorsed 
and  fast  fettered  him. 

The  marquis  was  expected  immediately.  Renee  sent  up 
a  little  note  to  Mrs.  Calling's  chamber  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  with  an  air  of  one-day-more-to-ourselves, 
that,  meeting  her,  she  entreated  the  English  lady  to  join 
the  expedition  mentioned  in  her  note.  Roland  had  hired 
a  big  Chioggian  fishing-boat  to  sail  into  the  gulf  at  night, 
and  return  at  dawn,  and  have  sight  of  Venice  rising  from 
the  sea.  Her  father  had  declined;  but  M.  Nevil  wished  to 
be  one  of  the  party,  and  in  that  case  ...?...  Renee 
threw  herself  beseechingly  into  the  mute  interrogation, 
keeping  both  of  Rosamund's  hands.  They  could  slip  away 
only  by  deciding  to,  and  this  rare  Englishwoman  had  no 
taste  for  the  petty  overt  hostilities.  "  If  I  can  be  of  use 
-to  you,"  she  said. 

"  If  you  can  bear  sea-pitching  and  tossing  for  the  sake 
of  the  loveliest  sight  in  the  whole  world,"  said  Renee. 

"I  know  it  well,"  Rosamund  replied. 

Renee  rippled  her  eyebrows.  She  divined  a  something 
behind  that  remark,  and  as  she  was  aware  of  the  grief  of 
Rosamund's  life,  her  quick  intuition  whispered  that  it 
might  be  connected  with  the  gallant  officer  dead  on  the 
battle-field. 

"  Madame,  if  you  know  it  too  well  ..."  she  said. 

"No;  it  is  always  worth  seeing,"  said  Rosamund,  "and 
I  think,  mademoiselle,  with  your  permission,  I  should 
accompany  you." 

"It  is  only  a  whim  of  mine,  madame.  I  can  stay  on 
shore." 

"Not  when  it  is  unnecessary  to  forego  a  pleasure." 

"  Say,  my  last  day  of  freedom." 

Renee  kissed  her  hand. 


62  BEATJCHAMP'S   CAREER 

She  is  terribly  winning,  Kosamund  avowed.  Eenee  was 
in  debate  whether  the  woman  devoted  to  Nevil  would  hear 
her  and  help. 

Just  then  Roland  and  Nevil  returned  from  their  boat, 
where  they  had  left  carpenters  and  upholsterers  at  work, 
and  the  delicate  chance  for  an  understanding  between  the 
ladies  passed  by. 

The  young  men  were  like  waves  of  ocean  overwhelming 
it,  they  were  so  full  of  their  boat,  and  the  scouring  and 
cleaning  out  of  it,  and  provisioning,  and  making  it  worthy 
of  its  freight.  Nevil  was  surprised  that  Mrs,  Culling 
should  have  consented  to  come,  and  asked  her  if  she 
really  wished  it  —  really;  and  "  Really,"  said  Rosamund; 
"certainly." 

"Without  dubitation,"  cried  Roland.  "And  now  my 
little  Renee  has  no  more  shore-qualms;  she  is  smoothly 
chaperoned,  and  madame  will  present  us  tea  on  board. 
All  the  etcaeteras  of  life  are  there,  and  a  mariner's  eye  in 
me  spies  a  breeze  at  sunset  to  waft  us  out  of  Malamocco." 

The  count  listened  to  the  recital  of  their  preparations 
with  his  usual  absent  interest  in  everything  not  turning 
upon  Art,  politics,  or  social  intrigue.  He  said,  "Yes, 
good,  good,"  at  the  proper  intervals,  and  walked  down 
the  riva  to  look  at  the  busy  boat,  said  to  Nevil,  "  You  are 
a  sailor;  I  confide  my  family  to  you,"  and  prudently 
counselled  Renee  to  put  on  the  dresses  she  could  toss  to 
the  deep  without  regrets.  Mrs.  Culling  he  thanked  fer- 
vently for  a  wonderful  stretch  of  generosity  in  lending  her 
presence  to  the  madcaps. 

Altogether  the  day  was  a  reanimation  of  external- 
Venice.  But  there  was  a  thunderbolt  in  it;  for  about  an 
hour  before  sunset,  when  the  ladies  were  superintending 
and  trying  not  to  criticize  the  ingenious  efforts  to  produce 
a  make-believe  of  comfort  on  board  for  them,  word  was 
brought  down  to  the  boat  by  the  count's  valet  that  the 
Marquis  de  Rouaillout  had  arrived.  Renee  turned  her 
face  to  her  brother  superciliously.  Roland  shrugged. 
"Note  this,  my  sister,"  he  said;  "an  anticipation  of  dates 
in  paying  visits  precludes  the  ripeness  of  the  sentiment  of 
welcome.  It  is,  however,  true  that  the  marquis  has  less 
time  to  spare  than  others," 


A  NIGHT   ON  THE   ADRIATIC  63 

"  We  have  started ;  we  are  on  the  open  sea.  How  can 
we  put  back  ?  "  said  Kenee. 

"You  hear,  FranQois;  we  are  on  the  open  sea,"  Eoland 
addressed  the  valet. 

"Monsieur  has  cut  loose  his  communications  with  land," 
FranQois  responded,  and  bowed  from  the  landing. 

Nevil  hastened  to  make  this  a  true  report;  but  they  had 
to  wait  for  tide  as  well  as  breeze,  and  pilot  through  intri- 
cate mud-channels  before  they  could  see  the  outside  of  the 
Lido,  and  meanwhile  the  sun  lay  like  a  golden  altar- 
platter  on  mud-banks  made  bare  by  the  ebb,  and  curled  in 
drowsy  yellow  links  along  the  currents.  All  they  could 
do  was  to  push  off  and  hang  loose,  bumping  to  right  and 
left  in  the  midst  of  volleys  and  countervolleys  of  fishy 
Venetian,  Chioggian,  and  Dalmatian,  quite  as  strong  as 
anything  ever  heard  down  the  Canalaggio.  The  represen- 
tatives of  these  dialects  trotted  the  decks  and  hung  their 
bodies  half  over  the  sides  of  the  vessels  to  deliver  fire, 
flashed  eyes  and  snapped  fingers,  not  a  whit  less  fierce 
than  hostile  crews  in  the  old  wars  hurling  an  interchange 
of  stink-pots,  and  then  resumed  the  trot,  apparently  in 
search  of  fresh  ammunition.  An  Austrian  sentinel  looked 
on  passively,  and  a  police  inspector  peeringly.  They 
were  used  to  it.  Happily,  the  combustible  import  of  the 
language  was  unknown  to  the  ladies,  and  NeviPs  attempts 
to  keep  his  crew  quiet,  contrasting  with  Roland's  phlegm, 
which  a  Frenchman  can  assume  so  philosophically  when 
his  tongue  is  tied,  amused  them.  During  the  clamour, 
Renee  saw  her  father  beckoning  from  the  riva.  She  sig- 
nified that  she  was  no  longer  in  command  of  circumstances ; 
the  vessel  was  off.  But  the  count  stamped  his  foot,  and 
nodded  imperatively.  Thereupon  Roland  repeated  the 
eloquent  demonstrations  of  Renee,  and  the  count  lost 
patience,  and  Roland  shouted,  "  For  the  love  of  heaven, 
don't  join  this  Babel;  we 're  nearly  bursting."  The  rage 
of  the  Babel  was  allayed  by  degrees,  though  not  appeased, 
for  the  boat  was  behaving  wantonly,  as  the  police  officer 
pointed  out  to  the  count. 

Renee  stood  up  to  bend  her  head.  It  was  in  reply  to  a 
salute  from  the  Marquis  de  Rouaillout,  and  Nevil  beheld 
his  rival. 


64  BE AUCH amp's  CAREER 

"  M.  le  Marquis,  seeing  it  is  out  of  the  question  that  we 
can  come  to  you,  will  you  come  to  us  ?  "  cried  Eoland. 

The  marquis  gesticulated  "  With  alacrity "  in  every 
limb. 

"  We  will  bring  you  back  on  to-morrow  midnight's  tide, 
safe,  we  promise  you." 

The  marquis  advanced  a  foot,  and  withdrew  it.  Could  he 
have  heard  correctly  ?  They  were  to  be  out  a  whole  night 
at  sea !  The  count  dejectedly  confessed  his  incapability  to 
restrain  them  :  the  young  desperadoes  were  ready  for  any- 
thing. He  had  tried  the  voice  of  authority,  and  was  laughed 
at.     As  to  Renee,  an  English  lady  was  with  her. 

"  The  English  lady  must  be  as  mad  as  the  rest,"  said  the 
marquis. 

"The  English  are  mad,"  said  the  count;  "but  their 
women  are  strict  upon  the  proprieties." 

"  Possibly,  my  dear  count ;  but  what  room  is  there  for 
the  proprieties  on  board  a  fishing-boat  ?  " 

"  It  is  even  as  you  say,  my  dear  marquis." 

"You  allow  it?" 

"  Can  I  help  myself  ?  Look  at  them.  They  tell  me 
they  have  given  the  boat  the  fittings  of  a  yacht." 

"  And  the  young  man  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  M.  Beauchamp  of  whom  I  have  spoken  to 
you,  the  very  pick  of  his  country,  fresh,  lively,  original ; 
and  he  can  converse.     You  will  like  him." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  marquis,  and  roused  a  doleful  laugh. 
"  It  would  seem  that  one  does  not  arrive  by  hastening !  " 

"  Oh  !  but,  my  dear  marquis,  you  have  paid  the  compli- 
ment ;  you  are  like  Spring  thrusting  in  a  bunch  of  lilac 
while  the  winds  of  winter  blow.  If  you  were  not  expected, 
your  expeditiousness  is  appreciated,  be  sure." 

Roland  fortunately  did  not  hear  the  marquis  compared 
to  Spring.  He  was  saying,  "I  wonder  what  those  two 
elderly  gentlemen  are  talking  about ;  "  and  Nevil  confused 
his  senses  by  trying  to  realize  that  one  of  them  was  destined 
to  be  the  husband  of  his  now  speechless  Ren^e.  The  mar- 
quis was  clad  in  a  white  silken  suit,  and  a  dash  of  red 
round  the  neck  set  oif  his  black  beard ;  but  when  he  lifted 
his  broad  straw  hat,  a  baldness  of  sconce  shone.  There  was 
elegance  in  his  gestures  j  he  looked  a  gentleman,  though  an 


A  NIGHT   ON   THE  ADRIATIC  65 

ultrarGallican  one,  that  is,  too  scrupulously  finished  for  our 
taste,  smelling  of  the  valet.  He  had  the  habit  of  balancing 
his  body  on  the  hips,  as  if  to  emphasize  a  juvenile  vigour, 
and  his  general  attitude  suggested  an  idea  that  he  had  an 
oration  for  you.  Seen  from  a  distance,  his  baldness  and 
strong  nasal  projection  were  not  winning  features ;  the 
youthful  standard  he  had  evidently  prescribed  to  himself 
in  his  dress  and  his  ready  jerks  of  acquiescence  and  delivery 
might  lead  a  forlorn  rival  to  conceive  him  something  of  an 
ogre  straining  at  an  Adonis.  It  could  not  be  disputed  that 
he  bore  his  disappointment  remarkably  well ;  the  more 
laudably,  because  his  position  was  within  a  step  of  the 
ridiculous,  for  he  had  shot  himself  to  the  mark,  despising 
sleep,  heat,  dust,  dirt,*  diet,  and  lo,  that  charming  object 
was  deliberately  slipping  out  of  reach,  proving  his  headlong 
journey  an  absurdity. 

As  he  stood  declining  to  participate  in  the  lunatic  voyage, 
and  bidding  them  perforce  good  speed  off  the  tips  of  his 
fingers,  Renee  turned  her  eyes  on  him,  and  away.  She 
felt  a  little  smart  of  pity,  arising  partly  from  her  antago- 
nism to  Roland's  covert  laughter :  but  it  was  the  colder 
kind  of  feminine  pity,  which  is  nearer  to  contempt  than  to 
tenderness.  She  sat  still,  placid  outwardly,  in  fear  of  her- 
self, so  strange  she  found  it  to  be  borne  out  to  sea  by  her 
sailor  lover  under  the  eyes  of  her  betrothed.  She  was  con- 
scious of  a  tumultuous  rush  of  sensations,  none  of  them  of 
a  very  healthy  kind,  coming  as  it  were  from  an  unlocked 
chamber  of  her  bosom,  hitherto  of  unimagined  contents; 
and  the  marquis  being  now  on  the  spot  to  defend  his  own, 
she  no  longer  blamed  Nevil :  it  was  otherwise  utterly.  All 
the  sweeter  side  of  pity  was  for  him. 

He  was  at  first  amazed  by  the  sudden  exquisite  transition. 
Tenderness  breathed  from  her,  in  voice,  in  look,  in  touch ; 
for  she  accepted  his  help  that  he  might  lead  her  to  the 
stern  of  the  vessel,  to  gaze  well  on  setting  Venice,  and  sent 
lightnings  up  his  veins  ;  she  leaned  beside  him  over  the 
vessel's  rails,  not  separated  from  him  by  the  breadth  of  a 
fluttering  riband.  Like  him,  she  scarcely  heard  her  brother 
when  for  an  instant  he  intervened,  and  with  Nevil  she  said 
adieu  to  Venice,  where  the  faint  red  Doge's  palace  was  like 
the  fading  of  another  sunset  north-westward  of  the  glory 

6 


66 

along  the  hills.  Venice  dropped  lower  and  lower,  "breasting 
the  waters,  until  it  was  a  thin  line  in  air.  The  line  was 
broken,  and  ran  in  dots,  with  here  and  there  a  pillar  stand- 
ing on  opal  sky.     At  last  the  topmost  campanile  sank. 

Renee  looked  up  at  the  sails,  and  back  for  the  sub- 
merged city. 

"  It  is  gone ! "  she  said,  as  though  a  marvel  had  been 
worked ;  and  swiftly :  "  we  have  one  night !  " 

She  breathed  it  half  like  a  question,  like  a  petition, 
catching  her  breath.  The  adieu  to  Venice  was  her  as- 
surance of  liberty,  but  Venice  hidden  rolled  on  her  the 
sense  of  the  return  and  plucked  shrewdly  at  her  tether  of 
bondage. 

They  set  their  eyes  toward  the  dark  gulf  ahead.  The 
night  was  growing  starry.  The  softly  ruffled  Adriatic 
tossed  no  foam. 

"  One  night  ?  "  said  Nevil ;  «  one  ?     Why  only  one  ?  " 

Eenee  shuddered.     "Oh!  do  not  speak." 

"  Then,  give  me  your  hand." 

"  There,  my  friend." 

He  pressed  a  hand  that  was  like  a  quivering  chord.  She 
gave  it  as  though  it  had  been  his  own  to  claim.  But  that  it 
meant  no  more  than  a  hand  he  knew  by  the  very  frankness 
of  her  compliance,  in  the  manner  natural  to  her;  and  this 
was  the  charm,  it  filled  him  with  her  peculiar  image  and 
spirit,  and  while  he  held  it  he  was  subdued. 

Lying  on  the  deck  at  midnight,  wrapt  in  his  cloak  and  a 
coil  of  rope  for  a  pillow,  considerably  apart  from  jesting 
Eoland,  the  recollection  of  that  little  sanguine  spot  of  time 
when  Renee's  life-blood  ran  with  his,  began  to  heave  under 
him  like  a  swelling  sea.  For  Nevil  the  starred  black  night 
was  Renee.  Half  his  heart  was  in  it :  but  the  combative 
division  flew  to  the  morning  and  the  deadly  iniquity  of  the 
marriage,  from  which  he  resolved  to  save  her ;  in  pure  de- 
votedness,  he  believed.  And  so  he  closed  his  eyes.  She,  a 
girl,  with  a  heart  fluttering  open  and  fearing,  felt  only  that 
she  had  lost  herself  somewhere,  and  she  had  neither  sleep 
nor  symbols,  nothing  but  a  sense  of  infinite  strangeness,  as 
though  she  were  borne  superhumanly  through  space. 


MORNING  AT  SEA  UNDER  THE  ALPS  67 

CHAPTER  IX 

MORNING   AT    SEA   UNDER   THE   ALPS 

The  breeze  blew  steadily,  enough  to  swell  the  sails  and 
sweep  the  vessel  on  smoothly.  The  night  air  dropped  no 
moisture  on  deck. 

Nevil  Beauchamp  dozed  for  an  hour.  He  was  awakened 
by  light  on  his  eyelids,  and  starting  up  beheld  the  many 
pinnacles  of  grey  and  red  rocks  and  shadowy  high  white 
regions  at  the  head  of  the  gulf  waiting  for  the  sun ;  and  the 
sun  struck  them.  One  by  one  they  came  out  in  crimson 
flame,  till  the  vivid  host  appeared  to  have  stepped  forward. 
The  shadows  on  the  snow-fields  deepened  to  purple  below  an 
irradiation  of  rose  and  pink  and  dazzling  silver.  There  of 
all  the  world  you  might  imagine  Gods  to  sit.  A  crowd  of 
mountains  endless  in  range,  erect,  or  flowing,  shattered  and 
arid,  or  leaning  in  smooth  lustre,  hangs  above  the  gulf.  The 
mountains  are  sovereign  Alps,  and  the  sea  is  beneath  them. 
The  whole  gigantic  body  keeps  the  sea,  as  with  a  hand,  to 
right  and  left. 

Nevil's  personal  rapture  craved  for  Renee  with  the  second 
long  breath  he  drew ;  and  now  the  curtain  of  her  tent-cabin 
parted,  and  greeting  him  with  a  half  smile,  she  looked  out. 
The  Adriatic  was  dark,  the  Alps  had  heaven  to  themselves. 
Crescents  and  hollows,  rosy  mounds,  white  shelves,  shining 
ledges,  domes  and  peaks,  all  the  towering  heights  were  in 
illumination  from  Friuli  into  farthest  Tyrol;  beyond  earth 
to  the  stricken  senses  of  the  gazers.  Colour  was  steadfast 
on  the  massive  front  ranks  :  it  wavered  in  the  remoteness, 
and  was  quick  and  dim  as  though  it  fell  on  beating  wings  ; 
but  there  too  divine  colour  seized  and  shaped  forth  solid 
forms,  and  thence  away  to  others  in  uttermost  distances 
where  the  incredible  flickering  gleam  of  new  heights 
arose,  that  soared,  or  stretched  their  white  uncertain  curves 
in  sky  like  wings  traversing  infinity. 

It  seemed  unlike  morning  to  the  lovers,  but  as  if  night 
had  broken  with  a  revelation  of  the  kingdom  in  the  heart 
of  night.     While  the  broad  smooth  waters  rolled  unlighted 


68  BEAUCH amp's  CAEEER 

beneath  that  transfigured  upper  sphere,  it  was  possible  to 
think  the  scene  might  vanish  like  a  view  caught  out  of 
darkness  by  lightning.  Alp  over  burning  Alp,  and  around 
them  a  hueless  dawn!  The  two  exulted:  they  threw  off  the 
load  of  wonderment,  and  in  looking  they  had  the  delicious 
sensation  of  flight  in  their  veins. 

Eende  stole  toward  Nevil.  She  was  mystically  shaken 
and  at  his  mercy;  and  had  he  said  then,  "Over  to  the 
other  land,  away  from  Venice ! "  she  would  have  bent  her 
head. 

She  asked  his  permission  to  rouse  her  brother  and  ma- 
dame,  so  that  they  should  not  miss  the  scene. 

Roland  lay  in  the  folds  of  his  military  greatcoat,  too  com- 
pletely happy  to  be  disturbed,  Nevil  Beauchamp  chose  to 
think ;  and  Rosamund  Culling,  he  told  Renee,  had  been 
separated  from  her  husband  last  on  these  waters. 

"  Ah !  to  be  unhappy  here,"  sighed  Renee.  "  I  fancied  it 
when  I  begged  her  to  join  us.     It  was  in  her  voice.'' 

The  impressionable  girl  trembled.  He  knew  he  was  dear 
to  her,  and  for  that  reason,  judging  of  her  by  himself,  he 
forbore  to  urge  his  advantage,  conceiving  it  base  to  fear 
that  loving  him  she  could  yield  her  hand .  to  another ; 
and  it  was  the  critical  instant.  She  was  almost  in  his 
grasp.  A  word  of  sharp  entreaty  would  have  swung  her 
round  to  see  her  situation  with  his  eyes,  and  detest  and 
shrink  from  it.  He  committed  the  capital  fault  of  treat- 
ing hei;  as  his  equal  in  passion  and  courage,  not  as  metal 
ready  to  run  into  the  mould  under,  temporary  stress  of 
fire. 

Even  later  in  the  morning,  when  she  was  cooler  and  he 
had  come  to  speak,  more  than  her  own  strength  was  needed 
to  resist  Jbim.  The  struggle  was  hard.  The  boat's  head 
had  been  put  about  for  Venice,  and  they  were  among  the 
dusky-red  Chioggian  sails  in  fishing  quarters,  expecting 
momently  a  campanile  to  signal  the  sea-city  over  the  level. 
Renee  waited  for  it  in  suspense.  To  her  it  stood  for  the 
implacable  key  of  a  close  and  stifling  chamber,  so  different 
from  this  brilliant  boundless  region  of  air,  that  she  sickened 
with  the  apprehension;  but  she  knew  it  must  appear,  and 
soon,  and  therewith  the  contraction  and  the  gloom  it  indi- 
cated to  her  mind.    He  talked  of  the  beauty.    She  fretted 


MORNING  AT   SEA   UNDER   THE  ALPS  69 

at  it,  and  was  her  petulant  self  again  in  an  epigrammatic 
note  of  discord. 

He  let  that  pass. 

"  Last  night  you  said  ^  one  night/  "  he  whispered.  "  We 
will  have  another  sail  before  we  leave  Venice.'^ 

"  One  night,  and  in  a  little  time  one  hour  !  and  next  one 
minute  !  and  there  's  the  end,"  said  Renee. 

Her  tone  alarmed  him.  "  Have  you  forgotten  that  you 
gave  me  your  hand  ?  " 

"  I  gave  my  hand  to  my  friend.'^ 

"  You  gave  it  to  me  for  good." 

"  No ;  I  dared  not ;  it  is  not  mine.'* 

"  It  is  mine,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Ren^e  pointed  to  the  dots  and  severed  lines  and  isolated 
columns  of  the  rising  city,  black  over  bright  sea. 

"  Mine  there  as  well  as  here,"  said  Beauchamp,  and 
looked  at  her  with  the  fiery  zeal  of  eyes  intent  on  minutest 
signs  for  a  confirmation,  to  shake  that  sad  negation  of  her 
face. 

"  Renee,  you  cannot  break  the  pledge  of  the  hand  you 
gave  me  last  night." 

"  You  tell  me  how  weak  a  creature  I  am." 

''  You  are  me,  myself ;  more,  better  than  me.  And  say, 
would  you  not  rather  coast  here  and  keep  the  city  under 
water?'' 

She  could  not  refrain  from  confessing  that  she  would  be 
glad  never  to  land  there. 

"  So,  when  you  land,  go  straight  to  your  father,"  said 
Beauchamp,  to  whose  conception  it  was  a  simple  act  result- 
ing from  the  avowal. 

*'  Oh !  you  torture  me,"  she  cried.  Her  eyelashes  were 
heavy  with  tears.  "  I  cannot  do  it.  Think  what  you  will 
of  me !  And,  my  friend,  help  ni«.  Should  you  not  help 
me  ?  I  have  not  once  actually  disobeyed  my  father,  and 
he  has  indulged  me,  but  he  has  been  sure  of  me  as  a  dutiful 
girl.  That  is  my  source  of  self-respect.  My  friend  can 
always  be  my  friend." 

"  Yes,  while  it 's  not  too  late,"  said  Beauchamp. 

She  observed  a  sudden  stringing  of  his  features.  ,  He. 
called  to  the  chief  boatman,  made  his  command  intelligible 
to  that  portly  capitano,  and  went  on  to  Roland,  who  was 


70  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

puffing  his  after-breakfast  cigarette  in  conversation  with 
the  tolerant  English  lady. 

"  You  condescend  to  notice  us,  signor  Beauchamp  ?  "  said 
Eoland.     "The  vessel  is  up  to  some  manoeuvre  ?  " 

"We  have  decided  not  to  land,"  replied  Beauchamp. 
"And,  Roland,"  he  checked  the  Frenchman's  shout  of 
laughter,  "  I  think  of  making  for  Trieste.  Let  me  speak 
to  you,  to  both.  Renee  is  in  misery.  She  must  not  go 
back." 

Roland  sprang  to  his  feet,  stared,  and  walked  over  to 
Renee. 

"Nevil,"  said  Rosamund  Culling,  "do  you  know  what 
you  are  doing  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  he.  "  Come  to  her.  She  is  a  girl,  and 
I  must  think  and  act  for  her." 

Roland  met  them. 

"  My  dear  Nevil,  are  you  in  a  state  of  delusion  ?  Renee 
denies  ..." 

"  There  's  no  delusion,  Roland.  I  am  determined  to  stop 
a  catastrophe.  I  see  it  as  plainly  as  those  Alps.  There  is 
only  one  way,  and  that 's  the  one  I  have  chosen.'^ 

"  Chosen  !  my  friend.  But  allow  me  to  remind  you  that 
you  have  others  to  consult.     And  Renee  herself  ..." 

**  She  is  a  girl.     She  loves  me,  and  I  speak  for  her." 

*' She  has  said  it?  " 

"  She  has  more  than  said  it." 

"You  strike  me  to  the  deck,  Nevil.  Either  you  are 
downright  mad  —  which  seems  the  likeliest,  or  we  are  all 
in  a  nightmare.  Can  you  suppose  I  will  let  my  sister  be 
carried  away  the  deuce  knows  where,  while  her  father  is 
expecting  her,  and  to  fulfil  an  engagement  affecting  his 
pledged  word  ?  " 

Beauchamp  simply  replied,  — 

"Come  to  her." 


A  SINGULAR  COUNCIL  71 

CHAPTER  X 

A  SINGULAR   COUNCIL 

The  four  sat  together  under  the  shadow  of  the  helms- 
man, by  whom  they  were  regarded  as  voyagers  in  debate 
upon  the  question  of  some  hours  further  on  salt  water. 
"  No  bora,"  he  threw  in  at  intervals,  to  assure  them  that 
the  obnoxious  wind  of  the  Adriatic  need  not  disturb  their 
calculations. 

It  was  an  extraordinary  sitting,  but  none  of  the  parties 
to  it  thought  of  it  so  when  Nevil  Beauchamp  had  plunged 
them  into  it.  He  compelled  them,  even  Renee  —  and  she 
would  have  flown  had  there  been  wings  on  her  shoulders  — 
to  feel  something  of  the  life  and  death  issues  present  to  his 
soul,  and  submit  to  the  discussion,  in  plain  language  of  the 
market-place,  of  the  most  delicate  of  human  subjects  for 
her,  for  him,  and  hardly  less  for  the  other  two.  An  over- 
mastering fervour  can  do  this.  It  upsets  the  vessel  we  float 
in,  and  we  have  to  swim  our  way  out  of  deep  waters  by  the 
directest  use  of  the  natural  faculties,  without  much  reflec- 
tion on  the  change  in  our  habits.  To  others  not  under 
such  an  influence  the  position  seems  impossible.  This  dis- 
cussion occurred.  Beauchamp  opened  the  case  in  a  couple 
of  sentences,  and  when  the  turn  came  for  Renee  to  speak, 
and  she  shrank  from  the  task  in  manifest  pain,  he  spoke 
for  her,  and  no  one  heard  her  contradiction.  She  would 
have  wished  the  fearful  impetuous  youth  to  succeed  if  she 
could  have  slept  through  the  storm  he  was  rousing. 

Roland  appealed  to  her.  ^'  You !  my  sister,  it  is  you  that 
consent  to  this  wild  freak,  enough  to  break  your  father's 
heart  ?  " 

He  had  really  forgotten  his  knowledge  of  her  character  — 
what  much  he  knew  —  in  the  dust  of  the  desperation  flung 
about  her  by  Nevil  Beauchamp. 

She  shook  her  head ;  she  had  not  consented. 

"  The  man  she  loves  is  her  voice  and  her  will,"  said 
Beauchamp.     "  She  gives  me  her  hand  and  I  lead  her." 


72  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREEE 

Roland  questioned  her.  It  could  not  be  denied  that  she 
had  given  her  hand,  and  her  bewildered  senses  made  her 
think  that  it  had  been  with  an  entire  abandonment ;  and  in 
the  heat  of  her  conflict  of  feelings,  the  deliciousness  of 
yielding  to  him  curled  round  and  enclosed  her,  as  in  a  cool 
humming  sea-shell. 

"  Renee  ! "  said  Roland. 

"  Brother !  "  she  cried. 

"  You  see  that  I  cannot  suffer  you  to  be  borne  away." 

"No;  do  not!" 

But  the  boat  was  flying  fast  from  Venice,  and  she  could 
have  fallen  at  his  feet  and  kissed  them  for  not  counter- 
manding it. 

"You  are  in  my  charge,  my  sister." 

"  Yes." 

"  And  now,  Nevil,  between  us  two,"  said  Roland. 

Beauchamp  required  no  challenge.  He  seemed,  to  Rosa- 
mund Culling,  twice  older  than  he  was,  strangely  adept,  yet 
more  strangely  wise  of  worldly  matters,  and  eloquent  too. 
But  it  was  the  eloquence  of  frenzy,  madness,  in  Roland's 
ear.  The  arrogation  of  a  terrible  foresight  that  harped  on 
present  and  future  to  persuade  him  of  the  righteousness  of 
this  headlong  proceeding  advocated  by  his  friend,  vexed  his 
natural  equanimity.  The  argument  was  out  of  the  domain 
of  logic.  He  could  hardly  sit  to  listen,  and  tore  at  his 
moustache  at  each  end.  Nevertheless  his  sister  listened. 
The  mad  Englishman  accomplished  the  miracle  of  making 
her  listen,  and  appear  to  consent. 

Roland  laughed  scornfully.  "  Why  Trieste  ?  I  ask  you, 
why  Trieste  ?  You  can't  have  a  Catholic  priest  at  your 
bidding,  without  her  father's  sanction.'^ 

"  We  leave  Renee  at  Trieste,  under  the  care  of  madame," 
said  Beauchamp,  "and  we  return  to  Venice,  and  I  go  to 
your  father.    This  method  protects  Renee  from  annoyance." 

"  It  strikes  me  that  if  she  arrives  at  any  determination 
she  must  take  the  consequences." 

"  She  does.  She  is  brave  enough  for  that.  But  she  is  a 
girl ;  she  has  to  fight  the  battle  of  her  life  in  a  day,  and  I 
am  her  lover,  and  she  leaves  it  to  me." 

"  Is  my  sister  such  a  coward  ?  "  sai4  Roland. 

Ren^e  could  only  call  out  his  name. 


A   SINGULAR   COUNCIL  73 

*^It  will  never  do,^my  dear  Nevil; ''  Roland  tried  to  deal 
with  his  unreasonable  friend  affectionately.  "I  am  respon- 
sible for  her.  It's  your  own  fault  —  if  you  had  not  saved 
my  life  I  should  not  have  been  in  your  way.  Here  I  am, 
and  your  proposal  can't  be  heard  of.  Do  as  you  will,  both 
of  you,  when  you  step  ashore  in  Venice." 

"  If  she  goes  back  she  is  lost,"  said  Beauchamp,  and  he 
attacked  Roland  on  the  side  of  his  love  for  Renee,  and  for 
him. 

Roland  was  inflexible.  Seeing  which,  Renee  said,  "To 
Venice,  quickly,  my  brother ! "  and  now  she  almost  sighed 
with  relief  to  think  that  she  was  escaping  from  this  hurri- 
cane of  a  youth,  who  swept  her  off  her  feet  and  wrapt  her 
whole  being  in  a  delirium. 

"  We  were  in  sight  of  the  city  just  now  !  "  cried  Roland, 
staring  and  frowning.     "  What 's  this  ?  " 

Beauchamp  answered  him  calmly,  "  The  boat 's  under  my 
orders." 

''  Talk  madness,  but  don't  act  it,"  said  Roland.  "  Round 
with  the  boat  at  once.  Hundred  devils  !  you  have  n't  your 
wits." 

To  his  amazement,  Beauchamp  refused  to  alter  the  boat's 
present  course. 

"  You  heard  my  sister  ?  "  said  Roland. 

"  You  frighten  her,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"You  heard  her  wish  to  return  to  Venice,  I  say." 

"  She  has  no  wish  that  is  not  mine." 

It  came  to  Roland's  shouting  his  command  to  the  men, 
while  Beauchamp  pointed  the  course  on  for  them. 

"  You  will  make  this  a  ghastly  pleasantry,"  said  Roland. 

"  I  do  what  I  know  to  be  right,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  You  want  an  altercation  before  these  fellows  ?  " 

"  There  won't  be  one  ;  they  obey  me." 

Roland  blinked  rapidly  in  wrath  and  doubt  of  mind. 

"  Madame,"  he  stooped  to  Rosamund  Culling,  with  a 
happy  inspiration,  "  convince  him ;  you  have  known  him 
longer  than  I,  and  I  desire  not  to  lose  my  friend.  And  tell 
me,  madame  —  T  can  trust  you  to  be  truth  itself,  and  you 
can  see  it  is  actually  the  time  for  truth  to  be  spoken  —  is 
he  justified  in  taking  my  sister's  hand?  You  perceive 
that  I  am  obliged  to  appeal  to  you.     Is  he  not  dependent 


74  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

on  his  uncle  ?  And  is  he  not,  therefore,  in  your  opinion, 
bound  in  reason  as  well  as  in  honour  to  wait  for  his  uncle's 
approbation  before  he  undertakes  to  speak  for  my  sister  ? 
And,  since  the  occasion  is  urgent,  let  me  ask  you  one  thing 
more :  whether,  by  your  knowledge  of  his  position,  you 
think  him  entitled  to  presume  to  decide  upon  my  sister's 
destiny  ?  She,  you  are  aware,  is  not  so  young  but  that  she 
can  speak  for  herself  ..." 

"  There  you  are  wrong,  Roland,"  said  Beauchamp ;  ^'-  she 
can  neither  speak  nor  think  for  herself:  you  lead  her 
blindfolded." 

"And  you,  my  friend,  suppose  that  you  are  wiser  than 
any  of  us.  It  is  understood.  I  venture  to  appeal  to 
madame  on  the  point  in  question." 

The  poor  lady's  heart  beat  dismally.  She  was  con- 
strained to  answer,  and  said,  "His  uncle  is  one  who  must 
be  consulted." 

"  You  hear  that,  Nevil,"  said  Roland. 

Beauchamp  looked  at  her  sharply;  angrily,  Rosamund 
feared.  She  had  struck  his  hot  brain  with  the  vision  of 
Everard  Romfrey  as  with  a  bar  of  iron.  If  Rosamund  had 
inclined  to  the  view  that  he  was  sure  of  his  uncle's  support, 
it  would  have  seemed  to  him  a  simple  confirmation  of  his 
sentiments,  but  he  was  not  of  the  same  temper  now  as  when 
he  exclaimed,  "Let  him  see  her! "  and  could  imagine,  give 
him  only  Renee's  love,  the  world  of  men  subservient  to  his 
wishes. 

Then  he  was  dreaming ;  he  was  now  in  fiery  earnest,  for 
that  reason  accessible  to  facts  presented  to  him  ;  and  Rosa- 
mund's reluctantly  spoken  words  brought  his  stubborn 
uncle  before  his  eyes,  inflicting  a  sense  of  helplessness  of 
the  bitterest  kind. 

They  were  all  silent.  Beauchamp  stared  at  the  lines  of 
the  deck-planks. 

His  scheme  to  rescue  Renee  was  right  and  good ;  but  was 
he  the  man  that  should  do  it  ?  And  was  she,  moreover,  he 
thought  —  speculating  on  her  bent  head  —  the  woman  to  be 
forced  to  brave  the  world  with  him,  and  poverty?  She 
gave  him  no  sign.  He  was  assuredly  not  the  man  to  pre- 
tend to  powers  he  did  not  feel  himself  to  possess,  and 
though  from  a  personal,  and  still  more  from  a  lover's,  in- 


A   SINGULAR   COUNCn^  75 

ability  to  see  all  round  him  at  one  time  and  accurately  to 
weigh  the  forces  at  his  disposal,  he  had  gone  far,  he  was 
not  a  wilful  dreamer  nor  so  very  selfish  a  lover.  The 
instant  his  consciousness  of  a  superior  strength  failed  him 
he  acknowledged  it. 

Eenee  did  not  look  up.  She  had  none  of  those  lightnings 
of  primitive  energy,  nor  the  noble  rashness  and  reliance  on 
her  lover,  which  his  imagination  had  filled  her  with ;  none. 
That  was  plain.  She  could  not  even  venture  to  second  him. 
Had  she  done  so  he  would  have  held  out.  He  walked  to 
the  head  of  the  boat  without  replying. 

Soon  after  this  the  boat  was  set  for  Venice  again. 

When  he  rejoined  his  companions  he  kissed  Rosamund's 
hand,  and  Renee,  despite  a  confused  feeling  of  humiliation 
and  anger,  loved  him  for  it. 

Glittering  Venice  was  now  in  sight;  the  dome  of  Sta. 
Maria  Salute  shining  like  a  globe  of  salt. 

Roland  flung  his  arm  round  his  friend's  neck,  and  said, 
"  Forgive  me." 

"  You  do  what  you  think  right,"  said  Beauchamp. 

^'You  are  a  perfect  man  of  honour,  my  friend,  and  a 
woman  would  adore  you.  Girls  are  straws.  It 's  part  of 
Renee's  religion  to  obey  her  father.  That's  why  I  was 
astonished  !  .  .  .  I  owe  you  my  life,  and  I  would  willingly 
give  you  my  sister  in  part  payment,  if  I  had  the  giving  of 
her ;  most  willingly.  The  case  is,  that  she  's  a  child,  and 
you?" 

"Yes,  I'm  dependent,"  Beauchamp  assented.  "I  can't 
act,  I  see  it.  That  scheme  wants  two  to  carry  it  out:  she 
has  no  courage.  I  feel  that  I  could  carry  the  day  with  my 
uncle,  but  I  can't  subject  her  to  the  risks,  since  she  dreads 
them ;  I  see  it.  Yes,  I  see  that !  I  should  have  done  well, 
I  believe ;  I  should  have  saved  her." 

*^  Run  to  England,  get  your  uncle's  consent,  and  then  try." 

"  No  ;  I  shall  go  to  her  father." 

"  My  dear  Nevil,  and  supposing  you  have  Renee  to  back 
you  —  supposing  it,  I  say  —  won't  you  be  falling  on  exactly 
the  same  bayonet-point  ?  " 

"  If  I  leave  her  ! "  Beauchamp  interjected.  He  perceived 
the  quality  of  Renee's  unformed  character  which  he  could 
not  express. 


76  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

"  But  we  are  to  suppose  that  she  loves  you  ?  " 

"  She  is  a  girl." 

"You  return,  my  friend,  to  the  place  you  started  from, 
as  you  did  on  the  canal  without  knowing  it.  In  my  opinion, 
frankly,  she  is  best  married.  And  I  think  so  all  the  more 
after  this  morning's  lesson.  You  understand  plainly  that 
if  you  leave  her  she  will  soon  be  pliant  to  the  legitimate 
authorities  ;  and  why  not  ? " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Koland.     I  tell  you  she  loves  me.     I  am 
bound  to  her,  and  when  —  if  ever  I  see  her  unhappy,  I  will- 
not  stand  by  and  look  on  quietly." 

Roland  shrugged.  "  The  future  not  being  born,  my 
friend,  we  will  abstain  from  baptizing  it.  For  me,  less 
privileged  than  my  fellows,  I  have  never  seen  the  future. 
Consequently  I  am  not  in  love  with  it,  and  to  declare  my- 
self candidly  I  do  not  care  for  it  one  snap  of  the  fingers. 
Let  us  follow  our  usages,  and  attend  to  the  future  at  the 
hour  of  its  delivery.  I  prefer  the  sage-femme  to  the 
prophet.  From  my  heart,  Nevil,  I  wish  I  could  help  you. 
We  have  charged  great  guns  together,  but  a  family  arrange- 
ment is  something  different  from  a  hostile  battery.  There 's 
Venice  !  and,  as  soon  as  you  land,  my  responsibility 's  ended. 
Reflect,  I  pray  you,  on  what  I  have  said  about  girls.  Upon 
my  word,  I  discover  myself  talking  wisdom  to  you.  Girls 
are  precious  fragilities.  Marriage  is  the  mould  for  them ; 
they  get  shape,  substance,  solidity :  that  is  to  say,  sense, 
passion,  a  will  of  their  own  :  and  ^race  and  tenderness, 
delicacy;  all  out  of  the  rude,  raw,  quaking  creatures' we 
call  girls.  Paris !  my  dear  Nevil !  Paris  I  It 's  the  book  of, 
women." 

The  grandeur  of  the  decayed  sea-city,  where  folly  bad 
danced  Parisianly  of  old,  spread  brooding  along  the-  waters 
in  morning  light;  beautiful;  but  with  that  inner  light  •of^ 
history  seen  through  the  beauty  Venice  was  like  a  lowered 
banner.  The  great  white  dome  and  the  campai^ili  watching 
above  her  were  still  brave  emblems.  Would  Paris  leave 
signs  of  an  'ancient  vigour  standing  to  vindicate  dignity 
when  her  fall,  came  ?     Nevil  thought  of  Renee  in  Paris. 

She  avoided  him.  She  had  retired  behind  her  tent-cur- 
tains, and  reappeared  only  when  her  father's  voice  hailed 
the  boat  from  a  gondola.     The  count  and  the  marquis   were 


A  SINGULAR  COUNCIL  77 

sitting  together,  and  there  was  a  spare  gondola  for  the  voy- 
agers, so  that  they  should  not  have  to  encounter  another 
Babel  of  the  riva.  Salutes  were  performed  with  lifted  hats, 
nods,  and  bows. 

"  Well,  my  dear  child,  it  has  all  been  very  wonderful  and 
uncomfortable  ?  "  said  the  count. 

"  Wonderful,  papa  ;  splendid." 

"  No  qualms  of  any  kind  ? '' 

"  None,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  madame  ?  " 

"Madame  will  confirm  it,  if  you  find  a  seat  for  her." 

Rosamund  Culling  was  received  in  the  count's  gondola, 
cordially  thanked,  and  placed  beside  the  marquis. 

"  I  stay  on  board  and  pay  these  fellows,"  said  Roland. 

Renee  was  told  by  her  father  to  follow  madame.  He  had 
jumped  into  the  spare  gondola  and  offered  a  seat  to  Beau- 
champ. 

"No,"  cried  Renee,  arresting  Beauchamp,  "it  is  I  who 
mean  to  sit  with  papa." 

Up  sprang  the  marquis  with  an  entreating,  "Made- 
moiselle ! " 

"M.  Beauchamp  will  entertain  you,  M.  le  Marquis." 

"  I  want  him  here,"  said  the  count ;  and  Beauchamp 
showed  that  his  wish  was  to  enter  the  count's  gondola,  but 
Reqee  had  recovered  her  aplomb,  and  decisively  said  "No," 
and  Beauchamp  had  to  yield. 

Th^,t  would  have  been  an  oj)portunity  of  speaking  to  her 
father  without  a  formal  asking  of  leave.     She  knew  it  as 
well  g,s  Nevil  Beauchamp. 
^  Renee  took  his  hand  to  be  assisted  in  the  step  down  to 
her  father's  arms,  murmuring,  — 

"  Do  nothing  —  nothing !  until  you  hear  from  me." 


T8  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

CHAPTEK  XI 

CAPTAIN   BASKELETT 

Our  England,  meanwhile,  was  bustling  over  the  extin- 
guished war,  counting  the  cost  of  it,  with  a  rather  rueful 
eye  on  Manchester,  and  soothing  the  taxed  by  an  exhibition 
of  heroes  at  brilliant  feasts.  Of  course,  the  first  to  come 
home  had  the  cream  of  the  praises.  She  hugged  them  in  a 
manner  somewhat  suffocating  to  modest  men,  but  heroism 
must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  these  excesses  of  maternal 
admiration ;  modesty,  too,  when  it  accepts  the  place  of 
honour  at  a  public  banquet,  should  not  protest  overmuch. 
To  be  just,  the  earliest  arrivals,  which  were  such  as  reached 
the  shores  of  Albion  before  her  war  was  at  an  end,  did 
cordially  reciprocate  the  hug.  They  were  taught,  and  they 
believed  most  naturally,  that  it  was  quite  as  well  to  repose 
upon  her  bosom  as  to  have  stuck  to  their  posts.  Surely 
there  was  a  conscious  weakness  in  the  Spartans,  who  were 
always  at  pains  to  discipline  their  men  in  heroical  conduct, 
and  rewarded  none  save  the  standfasts.  A  system  of  that 
sort  seems  to  betray  the  sense  of  poverty  in  the  article. 
Our  England  does  nothing  like  it.  All  are  welcome  home 
to  her  so  long  as  she  is  in  want  of  them.  Besides,  she  has 
to  please  the  taxpayer.  You  may  track  a  shadowy  line  or 
crazy  zigzag  of  policy  in  almost  every  stroke  of  her  domes- 
tic history  :  either  it  is  the  forethought  finding  it  necessary 
to  stir  up  an  impulse,  or  else  dashing  impulse  gives  a  lively 
pull  to  the  afterthought :  policy  becomes  evident  somehow, 
clumsily  very  possibly.  How  can  she  manage  an  enormous 
middle-class,  to  keep  it  happy,  other  than  a  little  clumsily  ?~ 
The  managing  of  it  at  all  is  the  wonder.  And  not  only  has 
she  to  stupefy  the  taxpayer  by  a  timely  display  of  f eastings 
and  fireworks,  she  has  to  stop  all  that  nonsense  (to  quote  a 
satiated  man  lightened  in  his  purse)  at  the  right  moment, 
about  the  hour  when  the  old  standfasts,  who  have  simply 
been  doing  duty,  return,  poor  jog-trot  fellows,  and  a  com- 
plimentary motto  Or  two  is  the  utmost  she  can  present  to 
them.     On  the  other  hand,  it  is  true  she  gives  her  first 


CAPTAIN  BASKELETT  79 

loves,  those  early  birds,  fully  to  understand  that  a  change 
has  come  in  their  island  mother's  mind.  If  there  is  a  bal- 
ance to  be  righted,  she  leaves  that  business  to  society,  and 
if  it  be  the  season  for  the  gathering  of  society,  it  will  be 
righted  more  or  less ;  and  if  no  righting  is  done  at  all, 
perhaps  the  Press  will  incidentally  toss  a  leaf  of  laurel  on 
a  name  or  two:  thus  in  the  exercise  of  grumbling  doing 
good. 

With  few  exceptions,  Nevil  Beauchamp's  heroes  received 
the  mottc  instead  of  the  sweetmeat.      England  expected 
them  to  do  their  duty;  they  did  it,  and  she  was  not  dissat- 
isfied, —  nor  should   they  be.     Beauchamp,  at  a   distance 
from  the  scene,  chafed  with  customary   vehemence,    con- 
cerning th?  unjust  measure  dealt  to  his  favourites  :  Captain 
"'Hardist,   ('f  the   Diomed,  twenty  years  a  captain,  still  a 
captain !     Young  Michell  denied  the  cross  !     Colonel  Evans 
Cuff,  on  tlie  heights  from  first  to  last,  and  not  advanced  a 
step !     Buc   Prancer,   and   Plunger,   and   Lammakin   were 
thoroughlr  tvell  taken  care  o/,  this  critic  of  the  war  wrote 
savagely,  reviving  an  echo  of  a  queer  small  circumstance 
occurring  in  the  midst  of  the  high  dolour  and  anxiety  of  the 
whole   nation,   and   which  a   politic  country  preferred  to 
forget,  as  we  will  do,  for  it  was  but  an  instance  of  strong 
.  family  fee'ing  in  high  quarters  ;  and  is  not  the  unity  of 
the  countr^^  founded  on  the  integrity  of  the  family  senti- 
ment ?     Is  't  not  certain,  which  the  master  tells  us,  that  a 
line  is  but  a  continuation  of  a  number  of  dots  ?      Nevil 
Beauchamp  ivas  for  insisting  that  great  Government  officers 
had  paid  more  attention  to  a  dot  or  two, than  to  the  line.    He 
appeared   to  be  at  war  with  his  ^country  after  the  peace. 
So  far  he  hid  a  lively  ally  in  his  uncle  Everard ;  but  these 
remarks   of  his  were  a  portion   of   a   letter,  whose   chief 
burden  was  the  request  that  Everard  Romfrey  would  back 
him  in  proposing  for  the  hand  of  a  young  French  lady,  she 
being,  Beaucaamp  smoothly  acknowledged,   engaged  to  a 
wealthy   Freich   marquis,  under   the    approbation   of   her 
family.     Coud  mortal  folly  outstrip  a  petition  of  that  sort  ? 
And  appareitly,  according  to  the  wording  and  emphasis  of 
the  letter,  it  vas  the  mature  age  of  the  marquis  which  made 
Mr.  Beauchanp  so  particularly  desirous  to  stop  the  projected 
marriage  and  take  the  girl  himself.     He  appealed  to  his 


80 


BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 


uncle  on  the  subject  in  a  '^  really-really  "  remonstrative  tone, 
quite  overwhelming  to  read.  —  "It  ought  not  to  be  per- 
mitted :  by  all  the  laws  of  chivalry,  I  should  write  to  the 
girl's  father  to  interdict  it :  I  really  am  particeps  criminis  in 
a  sin  against  nature  if  I  don't !  "  Mr.  Eomfrey  interjected 
in  burlesque  of  his  ridiculous  nephew,  with  collapsing 
laughter.  But  he  expressed  an  indignant  surprise  at  Nevil 
for  allowing  Rosamund  to  travel  alone. 

"  I  can  take  very  good  care  of  myself,"  Rosamund 
protested. 

"You  can  do  hundreds  of  things  you  should  never  be 
obliged  to  do  while  he  's  at  hand,  or  I,  ma'am,"  said  Mr. 
Romfrey.  "The  fellow's  insane.  He  forgets  a  gentle- 
man's duty.  Here  's  his  *  humanity '  dogging  a  French 
frock,  and  pooh !  —  the  age  of  the  marquis !  Fifty?  A 
man  's  beginning  his  prime  at  fifty,  or  there  nevei'  was  much 
man  in  him.  It 's  the  mark  of  a  fool  to  take  everybody  for 
a  bigger  fool  than  himself  —  or  he  would  n't  have  written 
this  letter  to  me.  He  can't  come  home  yet,  not  j^et,  and  he 
does  n't  know  when  he  can  !  Has  he  thrown  up  tie  service  ? 
I  am  to  preserve  the  alliance  between  England  and  France 
by  getting  this  French  girl  for  him  in  the  teeth  of  her 
marquis,  at  my  peril  if  I  refuse ! " 

Rosamund  asked,  "  Will  you  let  me  see  where  Nevil  says 
that,  sir  ?  " 

Mt^  Romfrey  tore  the  letter  to  strips.  "  He  'i  one  of  your 
fellows  who  cock  their  eyes  when  they  mean  tc  be  cunning. 
He  sends  you  to  do  the  wheedling,  that's  pliin.  I  don't 
say  he  has  hit  on  a  bad  advocate ;  but  tell  hin  I  back  him 
in  no  mortal  marriage  till  he  shows  a  pair  of  ppaulettes  on 
his  shoulders.  Tell  him  lieutenants  are  fiedflings  —  he 's 
not  marriageable  at  present.  It 's  a  very  pretcy  sacrifice  of 
himself  he  intends  for  the  sake  of  the  allifjnce,  tell  him 
that,  but  a  lieutenant 's  not  quite  big  enough  tp  establish  it. 
You  will  know  what  to  tell  him,  ma'am.  An|  say,  it 's  the 
fellow's  best  friend  that  advises  him  to  be  put  of  it  and 
home  quick.  If  he  makes  one  of  a  Frencli  trif,  he 's  dished. 
He 's  too  late  f Or  his  luck  in  England.  Hafe  him  out  of 
that  mire,  we  can't  hope  for  more  now." 

Rosamund  postponed  her  mission  to  pleal. 


Her  heart 
was  with  Nevil;  her  understanding  was  ea^ly  led  to  side 


CAPTAIN  BASKELETT  81 

against  him,  and  for  better  reasons  than  Mr.  Komf rey  could 
be  aware  of :  so  she  was  assured  by  her  experience  of  the 
character  of  Mademoiselle  de  Croisnel.  A  certain  belief  in 
her  personal  arts  of  persuasion  had  stopped  her  from  writ- 
ing on  her  homeward  journey  to  inform  him  that  Nevil  was 
not  accompanying  her,  and  when  she  drove  over  Steynham 
Common,  triumphal  arches  and  the  odour  of  a  roasting  ox 
richly  browning  to  celebrate  th^hero's  return  afllicted  her 
mind  with  all  the  solid  arguments  of  a  common-sense 
country  in  contravention  of  a  wild  lover's  vaporous  extrava- 
gances. Why  had  he  not  come  with  her  ?  The  disappointed 
ox  put  the  question  in  a  wavering  drop  of  the  cheers  of  the 
villagers  at  the  sight  of  the  carriage  without  their  bleeding 
hero.  Mr.  Romfrey,  at  his  hall-doors,  merely  screwed  his 
eyebrows;  for  it  was  the  quality  of  this  gentleman  to  fore- 
see most  human  events,  and  his  capacity  to  stifle  astonish- 
ment when  they  trifled  with  his  prognostics.  Rosamund 
had  left  Nevil  fast  bound  in  the  meshes  of  the  young  French 
sorceress,  no  longer  leading,  but  submissively  following, 
expecting  blindly,  seeing  strange  new  virtues  in  the  lurid 
indication  of  what  appeared  to  border  on  the  reverse.  How 
could  she  plead  for  her  infatuated  darling  to  one  who  was 
common  sense  in  person  ? 

Everard^s  pointed  interrogations  reduced  her  to  speak 
defensively,  instead  of  attacking  and  claiming  his  aid  for  the 
poor  enamoured  young  man.  She  dared  not  say  that'Nevil 
continued  to  be  absent  because  he  was  now  encouraged  by 
the  girl  to  remain  in  attendance  on  her,  and  was  more  than 
half  inspired  to  hope,  and  too  artfully  assisted  to  deceive  the 
count  and  the  marquis  under  the  guise  of  simple  friendship. 
Letters  passed  between  them  in  books  given  into  one 
another's  hands  with  an  audacious  openness  of  the  saddest 
augury  for  the  future  of  the  pair,  and  Nevil  could  be  so  lost 
to  reason  as  to  glory  in  Renee's  intrepidity,  which  he  justi- 
fied by  their  mutual  situation,  and  cherished  for  a  proof 
that  she  was  getting  courage.  In  fine,  Rosamund  aban- 
doned her  task  of  pleading.  Kevil's Communications  gave 
the  case  a  worse  and  worse  aspect :  Renee  was  prepared  to 
speak  to  her  father ;  she  delayed  it ;  then  the  two  were  to 
part ;  they  were  unable  to  perform  the  terrible  sacrifice  and 
slay  their  last  hope ;   and  then  Nevil  wrote  of  destiny  — 


82  BJJAUCHAMP'S   CABEER 

language  hitherto  unknown  to  him,  evidently  the  tongue  of 
Renee.  He  slipped  on  from  Italy  to  France.  His  uncle 
was  besieged  by  a  series  of  letters,  and  his  cousin,^  Cecil 
Baskelett,  a  captain  in  England's  grand  reserve  force  —  her 
Horse  Guards,  of  the  Blue  division  —  helped  Everard  Eora- 
frey  to  laugh  over  them. 

It  was  not  difficult,  alack !  Letters  of  a  lover  in  an  ex- 
tremity of  love,  crying  for  help,  are  as  curious  to  cool 
strong  men  as  the  contortions  of  the  proved  heterodox  tied 
to  a  stake  must  have  been  to  their  chastening  ecclesiastical 
judges.  Why  go  to  the  fire  when  a  recantation  wdll  save 
ypu  from  it  ?  Why  not  break  the  excruciating  faggot-bauds, 
and  escape,  when  you  have  only  to  decide  to  do  it  ?  We 
naturally  ask  why.  Those  martyrs  of  love  or  religion  are 
madmen.  Altogether,  NeviPs  adjurations  and  supplications,, 
his  threats  of  wrath  and  appeals  to  reason,  were  an  odd 
mixture.  "  He  won't  lose  a  chance  While  there  's  breath  in 
his  body,"  Everard  said,  quite  good-humouredly,  though  he 
deplored  that  the  chance  for  the  fellow  to  make  his  hero- 
parade  in  society,  and  haply  catch  an  heiress,  was  waning. 
There  was  an  heiress  at  Steynham,  on  her  way  with  her 
father  to  Italy,  very  anxious  to  see  her  old  friend  jSTevil  — 
Cecilia  Halkett :  and  very  inquisitive  this  young  lady  of 
sixteen  was  to  know  the  cause  of  his  absence.  She  heard 
of  it  from  Cecil. 

"And  one  morning  last  week  mademoiselle  was  running 
away  with  him,  and  the  next  morning  she  was  married  to 
her  marquis !  " 

Cecil  was  able  to  tell  her  that. 

"  I  used  to  be  so  fond  of  him,"  said  the  ingenuous  young 
lady.  She  had  to  thank  Nevil  for  a  Circassian  dress  and 
pearls,  which  he  had  sent  to  her  by  the  hands  of  Mrs. 
Culling  —  a  pretty  present  to  a  girl  in  the  nursery,  she 
thought,  and  in  fact  she  chose  to  be  a  little  wounded  by 
the  cause  of  his  absence. 

"He's  a  good  creature  —  really,"  Cecil  spoke  on  his 
cousin's  behalf.  "  Mad ;  he  always  will  be  mad.  A  dear 
old  savage ;  always  amuses  me.  He  does  !  I  get  half  my 
entertainment  from  him." 

Captain  Baskelett  was  gifted  with  the  art,  which  is  a  fine^ 
and  a  precious  one,  of  priceless  value  in  society,  and  not 


CAPTAIN  BASKELETT  83 

wanting  a  benediction  upon  it  in  our  elegant  literature, 
namely,  the  art  of  stripping  his  fellow-man  and  so  posturing 
him  as  to  make  every  movement  of  the  comical  wretch 
puppet-like,  constrained,  stiff,  and  foolish.  He  could  pre- 
sent you  heroical  actions  in  that  fashion  ;  for  example  : 

"  A  long-shanked  trooper,  bearing  the  name  of  John 
Thomas  Drew,  was  crawling  along  under  fire  of  the  batter- 
ies. Out^pops  old  Nevil,  tries  to  get  the  man  on  his  back. 
It  won't  do.  Nevil  insists  that  it 's  exactly  one  of  the  cases 
that  ought  to  be,  and  they  remain  arguing  about  it  like  a 
pair  of  nine-pins  while  the  Muscovites  are  at  work  with  the 
bowls.  Very  well.  Let  me  tell  you  my  story.  It 's  per- 
fectly true,  I  give  you  my  word.  So  Nevil  tries  to  horse 
Drew,  and  Drew  proposes  to  horse  Nevil,  as  at  school. 
Then  Drew  offers  a  compromise.  He  would  much*,  rather 
have  crawled  on,  you  know,  and  allowed  the  shot  to  pass 
over  his  head  ;  but  he 's  a  Briton,  old  Nevil  the  same ;  but 
old  NeviPs  peculiarity  is  that,  as  you  are  aware,  he  hates  a 
compromise  —  won't  have  it  —  retro  Sathanas  !  and  Drew's 
proposal  to  take  his  arm  instead  of  being  carried  pickaback 
disgusts  old  Nevil.  Still  it  won't  do  to  stop  where  they  are, 
like  the  cocoa-nut  and  the  pincushion  of  our  friends,  the 
gi'psies,  on  the  downs :  so  they  take  arms  and  commence  the 
journey  home,  resembling  the  best  of  friends  on  the  evening 
of  a  holiday  in  our  native  clime  —  two  steps  to  the  right, 
half-a-dozen  to  the  left,  etcaetera." 

Thus,  with  scarce  a  variation  from  the  facts,  with  but  a* 
flowery  chaplet  cast  on  a  truthful  narrative,  as  it  "^ere, 
Captain  Baskelett  could  render  ludicrous  that  which  in 
other  quarters  had  obtained  honourable  mention.  Kevil  and 
Drew  being  knocked  down  by  the  wind  of  a  ball  near  the 
battery,  "  Confound  it !  "  cries  Nevil,  jumping  on  his  feet, 
"  it 's  because  I  consented  to  a  compromise  !  "  —  a  trans- 
parent piece  of  fiction  this,  but  so  in  harmony  with  the 
character  stripped  naked  for  us  that  it  is  accepted.  Imagine 
Nevil's  love-affair  in  such  hands.  Recovering  from  a  fever, 
Nevil  sees  a  pretty  French  girl  in  a  gondola,  and  immedi- 
ately thinks,  ^'By  jingo,  I'm  marriageable."  He  hears  she 
is  engaged.  "  By  jingo,  she  's  marriageable  too."  He  goes 
through  a  sum  in  addition,  and  the  total  is  a  couple  ;  so  he 
determines  on  a  marriage.     "You  can't  get  it  out  of  his 


84  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

head;  lie  must  be  married  instantly,  and  to  her,  because 
she  is  going  to  marry  somebody  else.  Sticks  to  her, 
follows  her,  will  have  her,  in  spite  of  her  father,  her 
marquis,  her  brother,  aunts,  cousins,  religion,  country, 
and  the  young  woman  herself.  I  assure  you,  a  perfect 
model  of  male  fidelity !  She  is  married.  He  is  on  her 
track.  He  knows  his  time  will  come  ;  he  has  only  to  be 
handy.  You  see,  old  Nevil  believes  in  Providence,  is  per- 
fectly sure  he  will  one  day  hear  it  cry  out,  ^  Where 's  Beau- 
champ  ? '  '  Here  I  am ! '  *  And  here  's  your  marquise  ! ' 
*■  I  knew  I  should  have  her  at  last,'  says  Nevil,  calm  as 
Mont  Blanc  on  a  reduced  scale." 

The  secret  of  Captain  Baskelett's  art  would  seem  to  be  to 
show  the  automatic  human  creature  at  loggerheads  with  a 
necessity  that  winks  at  remarkable  pretentions,  while  con- 
demning it  perpetually  to  doll-like  action.  You  look  on  men 
from  your  own  elevation  as  upon  a  quantity  of  our  little 
wooden  images,  unto  whom  you  affix  puny  characteristics, 
under  restrictions  from  which  they  shall  not  escape,  though 
they  attempt  it  with  the  enterprising  vigour  of  an  extended 
leg,  or  a  pair  of  raised  arms,  or  a  head  awry,  or  a  trick  of 
jumping  ;  and  some  of  them  are  extraordinarily  addicted  to 
these  feats;  but  for  all  they  do  the  end  is  the  same,  for 
necessity  rules,  that  exactly  so,  under  stress  of  activity  must 
the  doll  Nevil,  the  doll  Everard,  or  the  dolliest  of  dolls,  fair 
woman,  behave.  The  automatic  creature  is  subject  to  the 
laws  of  its  construction,  you  perceive.  It  can  this,  it  can 
that,  but  it  cannot  leap  out  of  its  mechanism.  One  defini-, 
tion  of  the  art  is,  humour  made  easy,  and  that  may  be  why 
Cecil  Baskelett  indulged  in  it,  and  why  it  is  popular  with 
those  whose  humour  consists  of  a  readiness  to  laugh. 

The  fun  between  Cecil  Baskelett  and  Mr.  Romfrey  over 
the  doll  Nevil  threatened  an  intimacy  and  community  of 
sentiment  that  alarmed  Eosamund  on  behalf  of  her  darling's 
material  prospects.  She.  wrote  to  him,  entreating  him  to 
come  to  Steynham.  Nevil  Beauchamp  replied  to  her  both 
frankly  and  shrewdly : ,  "  I  shall  not  pretend  that  I  forgive 
my  uncle  Everard,  and  therefore  it  is  best  for  me  to  keep 
away.  Have  no  fear.  The  baron  likes  a  man  of  his  own 
tastes :  they  may  laugh  together,  if  it  suits  them  ;  he  never  ^ 
could  be  guilty  of  treachery,  and  to  disinherit  me  would  be 


CAPTAIN  BASKELETT  85 

that.  If  I  were  to  become  his  open  enemy  to-morrow,  I 
should  look  on  the  estates  as  mine  —  unless  I  did  anything 
to  make  him  disrespect  me.  You  will  not  suppose  it  likely. 
I  foresee  I  shall  want  money.  As  for  Cecil,  I  give  him 
as  much  rope  as  he  cares  to  have.  I  know  very  well  Everard 
Romfrey  will  see  where  the  point  of  likeness  between  them 
stops.     I  apply  for  a  ship  the  moment  I  land.'^ 

To  test  NeviPs  judgement  of  his  uncle,  Rosamund  ventured 
on  showing  this  letter  to  Mr.  Romfrey.  He  read  it,  and  said 
nothing,  but  subsequently  asked,  from  time  to  time,  ^'  Has 
he  got  his  ship  yet  ?  '^  It  assured  her  that  ISTevil  was  not 
wrong,  and  dispelled  her  notion  of  the  vulgar  imbroglio  of 
a  rich  uncle  and  two  thirsty  nephews.  She  was  hardly  less 
relieved  in  reflecting  that  he  could  read  men  so  soberly  and 
accurately.  The  desperation  of  the  youth  in  love  had 
rendered  her  one  little  bit  doubtful  of  the  orderliness  of  his 
wits.  After  this  she  smiled  on  CeciPs  assiduities.  Nevil 
obtained  his  appointment  to  a  ship  bound  for  the  coast  of 
Africa  to  spy  for  slavers.  He  called  on  his  uncle  in  London, 
and  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  hour's  visit  with  Rosa- 
mund ;  seemed  cured  of  his  passion,  devoid  of  rancour,  glad 
of  the  prospect  of  a  run  among  the  slaving  hulls.  He  and 
his  uncle  shook  hands  manfully,  at  the  full  outstretch  of 
their  arms,  in  a  way  so  like  them,  to  Rosamund's  thinking 
—  that  is,  in  a  way  so  unlike  any  other  possible  couple  of 
men  so  situated  —  that  the  humour  of  the  sight  eclipsed  all 
the  pleasantries  of  Captain  Baskelett.  "  Good-bye,  sir," 
Nevil  said  heartily  ;  and  Everard  Romfrey  was  not  behind- 
hand with  the  cordial  ring  of  his  "  Good-bye,  Nevil ; "  and 
upon  that  they  separated.  Rosamund  would  have  been 
willing  to  speak  to  her  beloved  of  his  false  Renee  —  the 
Frenchwoman,  she  termed  her,  i.  e.,  generically  false,  need- 
less to  name ;  and  one  question  quivered  on  her  tongue's  tip : 
"  How,  when  she  had  promised  to  fly  with  you,  how  could 
she  the  very  next  day  step  to  the  altar  with  him  now  her 
husband  ?  "  And,  if  she  had  spoken  it,  she  would  have 
added,  "  Your  uncle  could  not  have  set  his  face  against  you, 
had  you  brought  her  to  England."  She  felt  strongly  the 
mastery  Nevil  Beauchamp  could- exercise  e^;^en  over  his  uncle 
Everard.  But  when  he  was  gone,  unquestioned,  merely 
caressed,  it  came  to  her  mind  that  he  had  all  through  insisted 


86  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

on  his  possession  of  this  particular  power,  and  she  accused 
herself  of  having  wantonly  helped  to  .  ruin  his  hope  —  a 
matter  to  be  rejoiced  at  in  the  abstract ;  but  what  suffering 
she  had  inflicted  on  him  !  To  quiet  her  heart,  she  persuaded 
herself  that  for  the  future  she  would  never  fail  to  believe  in 
him  and  second  him  blindly,  as  true  love  should ;  and  con- 
templating one  so  brave,  far-sighted,  and  self-assured,  her 
determination  seemed  to  impose  the  lightest  of  tasks. 

Practically  humane  though  he  was,  and  especially  toward , 
cattle  and  all  kinds  of  beasts,  Mr.  Eomfrey  entertained  no 
profound  fellow-feeling  for  the  negro,  and  except  as  the 
representative  of  a  certain  amount  of  working  power  com- 
monly requiring  the  whip  to  wind  it  up,  he  inclined  to 
despise  that  black  spot  in  the  creation,  with  which  our 
civilization  should  never  have  had  anything  to  do.  So  he 
pronounced  his  mind,  and  the  long  habit  of  listening  to 
oracles  might  grow  us  ears  to  hear  and  discover  a  meaning 
in  it.  NeviPs  captures  and  releases  of  the  grinning  freights 
amused  him  for  awhile.  He  compared  them  to  strings  of 
bananas,  and  presently  put  the  vision  of  the  whole  business 
aside  by  talking  of  Nevil's  banana- wreath.  He  desired  to 
have  Nevil  out  of  it.  He  and  Cecil  handed  Nevil  in  his 
banana-wreath  about  to  their  friends.  Nevil,  in  his  banana- 
wreath,  was  set  preaching  "  humanitomtity."  At  any  rate, 
they  contrived  to  keep  the  remembrance  of  i^evil  Beauchamp 
alive  during  the  period  of  his  disappearance  from  the  world, 
and  in  so  doing  they  did  him  a  service. 

There  is  a  pause  between  the  descent  of  a  diver  and  his 
return  to  the  surface,  when  those  who  would  not  have  him 
forgotten  by  the  better  world  above  him  do  rightly  to  relate 
anecdotes  of  him,  if  they  can,  and  to  provoke  laughter  at 
him.  The  encouragement  of  the  humane  sense  of  superiority 
over  an  object  of  interest,  which  laughter  gives,  is  good  for 
the  object ;  and  besides,  if  you  begin  to  tell  sly  stories  of 
one  in  the  deeps  who  is  holding  his  breath  to  fetch  a  pearl 
or  two  for  you  all,  you  divert  a  particular  sympathetic 
oppression  of  the  chest,  that  the  extremely  sensitive  are  apt 
to  suffer  from,  and  you  dispose  the  larger  number  to  keep  in 
mind  a  person  they  no  longer  see.  Otherwise  it  is  likely 
that  he  will,  very  shortly  after  he  has   made  his  plunge, 


CAPTAIN  BASKELETT  87 

fatigue  the  contemplative  brains  above,  and  be  shuffled  off 
them,  even  as  great  ocean  smoothes  away  the  dear  vanished 
man's  immediate  circle  of  foam,  and  rapidly  confounds  the 
rippling  memory  of  him  with  its  other  agitations.  And  in 
such  a  case  the  apparition  of  his  head  upon  our  common 
level  once  more  will  almost  certainly  cause  a  disagreeable 
shock ;  nor  is  it  improbable  that  his  first  natural  snorts  in 
his  native  element,  though  they  be  simply  to  obtain  his 
share  of  the  breath  of  life,  will  draw  down  on  him  condem- 
nation for  eccentric  behaviour  and  unmannerly  ;  and  this  in 
spite  of  the  jewel  he  brings,  unless  it  be  an  exceedingly 
splendid  one.  The  reason  is,  that  our  brave  world  cannot 
pardon  a  breach  of  continuity  for  any  petty  bribe. 

Thus  it  chanced,  owing  to  the  prolonged  efforts  of  Mr. 
Romfrey  and  Cecil  Baskelett  to  get  fun  out  of  him,  at  the 
cbst  of  considerable  inventiveness,  that  the  electoral  Ad- 
dress of  the  candidate,  signing  himself  "E.  C.  S.  Nevil 
Beauchamp,"  to  the  borough  of  Bevisham,  did  not  issue 
from  an  altogether  unremembered  man. 

He  had  been  cruising  in  the  Mediterranean,  commanding 
the  Ariadne,  the  smartest  corvette  in  the  service.  He  had, 
it  was  widely  made  known,  met  his  marquise  in  Palermo. 
It  was  presumed  that  he  was  dancing  the  round  with  her 
still,  when  this  amazing  Address  appeared  on  Bevisham's 
walls,  in  anticipation  of  the  general  Election.  The  Address, 
moreover,  was  ultra-Radical :  museums  to  be  opened  on 
Sundays ;  ominous  references  to  the  Land  question,  &c. ; 
no  smooth  passing  mention  of  Reform,  such  as  the  Liberal, 
become  stately,  adopts  in  speaking  of  that  property  of  his, 
but  swinging  blows  on  the  heads  of  many  a  denounced 
iniquity. 

Cecil  forwarded  the  Address  to  Everard  Romfrey  with- 
out comment. 

Next  day  the  following  letter,  dated  from  Itchincope,  the 
house  of  Mr.  Grancey  Lespel,  on  the  borders  of  Bevisham, 
arrived  at  Steynham  :  — 

"  I  have  dispatched  you  the  proclamation,  folded  neatly. 
The  electors  of  Bevisham  are  summoned,  like  a  town  at  the 
sword's  point,  to  yield  him  their  votes.  Proclamation  is 
the  word.  I  am  yoijr  born  representative  !  I  have  com- 
pleted my  political  education  on  salt  water,  and  I  tackle 


88 

you  on  the  Land  question.  I  am  the  heir  of  your  votes, 
gentlemen  !  —  I  forgot,  and  I  apologize  ;  he  calls  them  fel- 
low-men. Fraternal,  and  not  so  risky.  Here  at  Lespel's 
we  read  the  thing  with  shouts.  It  hangs  in  the  smoking- 
room.  We  throw  open  the  curaqoa  to  the  intelligence  and 
industry  of  the  assembled  guests  ;  we  carry  the  right  of  the 
multitude  to  our  host's  cigars  by  a  majority.  C'est  un 
farceur  que  notre  bon  petit  cousin.  Lespel  says  it  is  sailor- 
like to  do  something  of  this  sort  after  a  cruise.  Nevil's 
Radicalism  would  have  been  clever  anywhere  out  of 
Bevisham.  Of  all  boroughs !  Grancey  Lespel  knows  it. 
He  and  his  family  were  Bevisham's  Whig  M.P.'s  before  the 
day  of  Manchester.  In  Bevisham  an  election  is  an  arrange- 
ment made  by  Providence  to  square  the  accounts  of  the 
voters,  and  settle  arrears.  They  reckon  up  the  health  of 
their  two  members  and  the  chances  of  an  appeal  to  the 
country  when  they  fix  the  rents  and  leases.  You  have  them 
pointed  out  to  you  in  the  street,  with  their  figures  attached 
to  them  like  titles.  Mr.  Tomkins,  the  twenty-pound  man  ; 
an  elector  of  uncommon  purity.  I  saw  the  ruffian  yester- 
day. He  has  an  extra  breadth  to  his  hat.  He  has  never 
been  known  to  listen  to  a  member  under  £20,  and  is  re- 
spected enormously  —  like  the  lady  of  the  Mythology,  who 
was  an  intolerable  Tartar  of  virtue,  because  her  price  was 
nothing  less  than  a  god,  and  money  down.  Nevil  will  have 
to  come  down  on  Bevisham  in  the  Jupiter  style.  Bevisham 
is  downright  the  dearest  of  boroughs  —  ^vaulting-boards,' 
as  Stukely  Culbrett  calls  them  —  in  the  kingdom.  I  assume 
we  still  say  ^kingdom.' 

"  He  dashed  into  the  Radical  trap  exactly  two  hours  after 
landing.  I  believe  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  Halketts  at 
Mount  Laurels.  A  notorious  old  rascal  revolutionist  re- 
tired from  his  licenced  business  of  slaughterer  —  one  of 
your  gratis  doctors  —  met  him  on  the  high-road,  and  told 
him  he  was  the  man.  Up  went  Nevil's  enthusiasm  like  a 
bottle  rid  of  the  cork.  You  will  see  a  great  deal  about 
faith  in  the  proclamation ;  '  faith  in  the  future,'  and  « my 
faith  in  you.'  When  you  become  a  Radical  you  have  faith 
in  any  quantity,  just  as  an  alderman  gets  turtle  soup.  It  is 
your  badge,  'like  a  livery-servant's  cockade  or  a  corporal's 
sleeve   stripes'  —  your  badge  and  your  bellyful.     Calcula- 


CAPTAIN   BASKELETT  89 

tions  "Were  gone  through,  at  the  Liberal  newspaper-office, 
old  Nevil  adding  up  hard,  and  he  was  informed  that  he 
was  elected  by  something  like  a  topping  eight  or  nine  hun- 
dred and  some  fractions.  I  am  sure  that  a  fellow  who  can 
let  himself  be  gulled  by  a  pile  of  figures  trumped  up  in  a 
Eadical  newspaper-office  must  have  great  faith  in  the 
fractions.     Out  came  Nevirs  proclamation. 

"  I  have  not  met  him,  and  I  would  rather  not.  I  shall 
not  pretend  to  offer  you  advice,  for  I  have  the  habit  of 
thinking  your  judgement  can  stand  by  itself.  We  shall 
all  find  this  affair  a  nuisance.  N"evil  will  pay  through  the 
nose.  We  shall  have  the  ridicule  spattered  on  the  family. 
It  would  be  a  safer  thing  for  him  to  invest  his  money  on 
the  Turf,  and  I  shall  advise  his  doing  it  if  I  come  across 
him. 

"  Perhaps  the  best  course  would  be  to  telegraph  for  the 
marquise ! '' 

This  was  from  Cecil  Baskelett.  He  added  a  post- 
script — 

^'  Seriously,  the  *  mad  commander '  has  not  an  ace  of 
a  chance.  Grancey  and  I  saw  some  Working  Men  (you 
have  to  write  them  in  capitals,  king  and  queen  small) ;  they 
were  reading  the  Address  on  a  board  carried  by  a  red-nosed 
man,  and  shrugging.     They  are  not  such  fools. 

"  By  the  way,  I  am  informed  Shrapnel  has  a  young 
female  relative  living  with  him,  said  to  be  a  sparkler.  I 
bet  you,  sir,  she  is  not  a  Radical.     Do  you  take  me  ?  " 

Rosamund  Culling  drove  to  the  railway  station  on  her 
way  to  Bevisham  within  an  hour  after  Mr.  Romfrey's  eye- 
brows had  made  acute  play  over  this  communication. 


90  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

CHAPTER  XII 

AN   INTERVIEW   WITH   THE   INFAMOUS    DR.    SHRAPNEL 

In  tjie  High  street  of  the  ancient  and  famous  town  and 
port  of  Bevisham,  Rosamund  met  the  military  governor  of 
a  neighbouring  fortress,  General  Sherwin,  once  colonel  of  her 
husband's  regiment  in  India;  and  by  him,  as  it  happened, 
sh^  was  assisted  in  finding  the  whereabout  of  the  young 
Liberal  candidate,  without  the  degrading  recourse  of  an  ap- 
plication at  the  newspaper-office  of  his  party.  The  general 
was  leisurely  walking  to  a  place  of  appointment  to  fetch 
his  daughter  home  from  a  visit  to  an  old  school-friend, 
a  Miss  Jenny  Denham,  no  other  than  a  ward,  or  a  niece,  or 
an  adoption  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  :  "  A  nice  girl ;  a  great  favour- 
ite of  mine,"  the  general  said.  Shrapnel  he  knew  by  repu- 
tation only  as  a^  wrong-headed  politician  ;  but  he  spoke  of 
Miss  Denham  pleasantly  two  or  three  times,  praising  her 
accomplishments  and  her  winning  manners.  His  hear6r 
suspected  that  it  might  be  done  to  dissociate  tjie  idea  of 
her  from  the  ruffling  agitator.  "Is  she  pretty?"  was  a 
question  that  sprang  from  Rosamund's  intimate  reflections. 
The  answer  was,   "Yes." 

"Very  pretty  ?" 

"  I  think  very  pretty,"  said  the  general. 

"  Captivatingly  ?  " 

"  Clara  thinks  she  is  perfect ;  she  is  tall  and  slim,  and 
dresses  well.  The  girls  were  with  a  French  Madam  in 
Paris.  But,  if^'you  are  interested  about  her,  you  can 
come  on  with  me,  and  we  shall  meet  them  somewhere 
near  the  head  of  the  steeet.  I  don't,"  the  general  hesitated 
and  hummed  —  "I  don't  call  at  Shrapnel's." 

"  I  have  never  heard  her  name  before  to-day,"  said  Rosa- 
mund. 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  general,  crowing  at  the  aimlessness 
of  a  woman's  curiosity. 

The  young  ladies  were  seen  approaching,  and  Rosamund 
had  to  ask  herself  whether  the  first  sight  of  a  person  like 
Miss  Denham  would  be  of  a  kind  to  exercise  a  lively  influ- 


INTERVIEW  WITH  DR.    SHRAPNEL  91 

ence  over  the  political  and  other  sentiments  of  a  dreamy- 
sailor  just  released  from  ship-service.  In  an  ordinary  case 
she  would  have  said  no,  for  Nevil  enjoyed  a  range  of 
society  where  faces  charming  as  Miss  Denham's  were 
plentiful  as  roses  in  the  rose-garden.  But,  supposing  him 
free  of  his  bondage  to  the  foreign  woman,  there  was,  she 
thought  and  feared,  a  possibility  that  a  girl  of  this  descrip- 
tion might  capture  a  young  man's  vacant  heart  sighing  for  a 
new  mistress.  And  if  so,  further  observation  assured  her 
Miss  Denham  was  likely  to  be  dangerous  far  more  than 
professedly  attractive  persons,  enchantresses  and  the  rest. 
Roisamund  watchfully  gathered  all  the  superficial  indica- 
tions which  incite  women  to  judge  of  character  profoundly. 
This  new  object  of  alarm  was,  as  the  general  had  said  of 
her,  tall  and  slim,  a  friend  of  neatness,  plainly  dressed,  but 
exquisitely  fitted,  in  the  manner  of  Frenchwomen.  She 
spoke  very  readily,  not  too  much,  and  had  the  rare  gift  of 
being  able  to  speak  fluently  with  a  smile  on  the  mouth. 
Vulvar  archness  imitates  it.  She  won  and  retained  the 
eyes  of  her  hearer  sympathetically,  it  seemed.  Rosamund 
thought  her  as  little  conscious  as  a  woman  could  be.  She 
coloured  at  times  quickly,  but  without  confusion.  '  When 
that  name,  the  key  of  Rosamund's  meditations,  chanced 
to  be  mentioned,  a  flush  swept  over  Miss  Denham's  face. 
The  candour  of  it  was  unchanged  as  she  gazed  at  Rosa- 
mund, with  a  look  that  asked,  "  Do  you  know  him  ?  " 

Rosamund  said,  "  I  am  an  old  friend  of  his.'' 

"He  is  here  now,  in  this  town." 

"  I  wish  to  see  him  very  much." 

General  Sherwin  interposed:  "We  won't  talk  about 
political  characters  just  for  the  present." 

"I  wish  you  knew  him,  papa,  and  would  advise  him,"  his 
daughter  said. 

The  general  nodded  hastily.     "By-and-by,  by-and-by." 

They  had  in  fact  taken  seats  at  a  table  of  mutton  pies  in 
a  pastrycook's  shop,  where  dashing  military  men  were 
restrained  solely  by  their  presence  from  a  too  noisy  display 
of  fascinations  before  the  fashionable  waiting- women. 

Rosamund  looked  at  Miss  Denham.  As  soon  as  they 
were  in  the  street  the  latter  said,  "If  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  come  with  me,  madam?  .  .  ." 


92  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Eosamund  bowed,  thankful  to  have  been  comprehended. 
The  two  young  ladies  kissed  cheeks  and  parted.  General 
Sherwin  raised  his  hat,  and  was  astonished  to  see  Mrs. 
Culling  join  Miss  Denham  in  accepting  the  salute,  for  they 
had  not  been  introduced,  and  what  could  they  have  in  com- 
mon ?     It  was  another  of  the  oddities  of  female  nature. 

"  My  name  is  Mrs.  Culling,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  it  is 
that  I  am  interested  in  Captain  Beauchamp,"  Rosamund 
addressed  her  companion.  "  I  am  his  uncle's  housekeeper. 
I  have  known  him  and  loved  him  since  he  was  a  boy,  I  am 
in  great  fear  that  he  is  acting  rashly.'* 

"You  honour  me,  madam,  by  speaking  to  me  so  frankly," 
Miss  Denham  answered. 

"  He  is  quite  bent  upon  this  Election  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam.  I  am  not,  as  you  can  suppose,  in  his  con- 
fidence, but  I  hear  of  him  from  Dr.  Shrapnel." 

"Your  uncle?" 

"  I  call  him  uncle  :  he  is  my  guardian,  madam." 

It  is  perhaps  excusable  that  this  communication  did  not 
cause  the  doctor  to  shine  with  added  lustre  in  Rosamund's 
thoughts,  or  ennoble  the  young  lady. 

"  You  are  not  relatives,  then  ?  "  she  said. 

"  No,  unless  love  can  make  us  so."  ■ 

"  Not  blood-relatives." 

"No." 

"  Is  he  not  very  .  .  .  extreme  ?  " 

"He  is  very  sincere." 

"  I  presume  you  are  a  politician  ?  " 

Miss  Denham  smiled.  "  Could  you  pardon  me,  madam, 
if -I  said  that  I  was?" 

The  counterquestion  was  a  fair  retort  enfolding  a  gentler 
irony.  Rosamund  felt  that  she  had  to  do  with  wits  as  well 
as  with  vivid  feminine  intuitions  in  the  person  of  this  Miss 
Denham. 

She  said,  "  I  really  am  of  opinion  that  our  sex  might 
abstain  from  politics." 

"  We  find  it  difficult  to  do  justice  to  both  parties,"  Miss 
Denham  followed.  "  It  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  clanship  with 
women  ;  hardly  even  that." 

Rosamund  was  inattentive  to  the  conversational  slipshod, 
and  launched  one  of  the  heavy  affirmatives  which  are  in 


INTEKVIEW  WITH  DR.   SHRAPISTEL  93 

dialogue  full  stops.  She  could  not  have  said  why  she  was 
sensible  of  anger,  but  the  sentiment  of  anger,  or  spite  (if 
that  be  a  lesser  degree  of  the  same  affliction),  became  stirred 
in  her  bosom  when  she  listened  to  the  ward  of  Dr.  Shrapnel. 
A  silly  pretty  puss  of  a  girl  would  not  have  excited  it,  nor 
an  avowed  blood-relative  of  the  demagogue. 

Nevil's  hotel  was  pointed  out  to  Eosamund,  and  she  left 
her  card  there.  He  had  been  absent  since  eight  in  the 
morning.  There  was  the  probability  that  he  might  be  at 
Dr.  ShrapneFs,  so  Eosamund  walked  on. 

"  Captain  Beauchamp  gives  himself  no  rest/*'  Miss  Den- 
ham  said. 

"Oh!  I  know  him,  when  once  his  mind  is  set  on  any- 
thing,'^ said  Eosamund.  "  Is  it  not  too  early  to  begin  to  — 
canvass,  I  think,  is  the  word?" 

"  He  is  studying  whatever  the  town  can  teach  him  of  its 
wants  ;  that  is,  how  he  may  serve  it." 

"  Indeed !  But  if  the  town  will  not  have  him  to  serve  it  ?  " 

"He  imagines  that  he  cannot  do  better,  until  that  has 
been  decided,  than  to  fit  himself  for  the  post." 

"  Acting  upon  your  advice  ?  I  mean,  of  course,  your 
uncle's;  that  is.  Dr.  Shrapnel's." 

"Dr.  Shrapnel  thinks  it  will  not  be  loss  of  time  for  Cap- 
tain Beauchamp  to  grow  familiar  with  the  place,  and  observe 
as  well  as  read." 

"It  sounds  almost  as  if  Captain  Beauchamp  had  sub- 
mitted to  be  Dr.  Shrapnel's  pupil." 

"It  is  natural,  madam,  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  should  know 
more  of  political  ways  at  present  than  Captain  Beauchamp." 

"  To  Captain  Beauchamp's  friends  and  relatives  it  appears 
very  strange  that  he  should  have  decided  to  contest  this 
election  so  suddenly.  May  I  inquire  whether  he  and  Dr. 
Shrapnel  are  old  acquaintances  ?  " 

"  No,  madam,  they  are  not.  They  had  never  met  before 
Captain  Beauchamp  landed,  the  other  day." 

"I  am  surprised,  I  confess.  I  cannot  understand  the 
nature  of  an  influence  that  induces  him  to  abandon  a  pro- 
fession he  loves  and  shines  in,  for  politics,  at  a  moment's 
notice." 

Miss  Denham  was  silent,  and  then  said,  — 

"  I  will  tell  you,  madam,  how  it  occurred,  as  far  as  cir- 


94 

cumstances  explain  it.  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  accustomed  to  give 
a  little  country  feast  to  the  children  I  teach,  and  their 
parents  if  they  choose  to  come,  and  they  generally  do.  They 
are  driven  to  Northeden  Heath,  where  we  set  up  a  booth 
for  them,  and  try  with  cakes  and  tea  and  games  to  make 
them  spend  one  of  their  happy  afternoons  and  evenings. 
We  succeed,  I  know,  for  the  little  creatures  talk  of  it 
and  look  forward  to  the  day.  When  they  are  at  their  last 
romp,  Dr.  Shrapnel  speaks  to  the  parents.^' 

"  Can  he  obtain  a  hearing  ?  "  Rosamund  asked. 

"He  has  not  so  very  large  a  crowd  to  address,  madam, 
and  he  is  much  beloved  by  those  that  come." 

"  He  speaks  to  them  of  politics  on  those  occasions  ?  " 

^^  Adouci  a  leur  intention.  It  is  not  a  political  speech, 
but  Dr.  Shrapnel  thinks,  that  in  a  so-called  free  country 
seeking  to  be  really  free,  men  of  the  lowest  class  should  be 
educated  in  forming  a  political  judgement." 

"  And  women  too  ?  " 

"And  women,  yes.  Indeed,  madam,  we  notice  that  the 
women  listen  very  creditably." 

"  They  can  put  on  the  air." 

"  I  am  afraid,  not  more  than  the  men  do.  To  get  them  to 
listen  is  something.  They  suffer  like  the  men,  and  must 
depend  on  their  intelligence  to  win  their  way  out  of  it." 

Rosamund's  meditation  was  exclamatory:  What  can  be 
the  age  of  this  pretentious  girl? 

An  afterthought  turned  he'r  more  conciliatorily  toward 
the  person,  but  less  to  the  subject.  She  was  sure  that  she 
was  lending  ear  to  the  echo  of  the  dangerous  doctor,  and 
rather  pitied  Miss  Denham  for  awhile,  reflecting  that  a 
young  woman  stuffed  with  such  ideas  would  find  it  hard  to 
get  a  husband.  Mention  of  Nevil  revived  her  feeling  of 
hostility. 

"  We  had  seen  a  gentleman  standing  near  and  listening 
attentively,",  Miss  Denham  resumed,  "  and  when  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel concluded  a  card  was  handed  to  him.  He  read  it  and 
gave  it  to  me,  and  said,  ^  You  know  that  name.'  It  was  a 
name  we  had  often  talked  about  during  the  war.  He  went 
to  Captain  Beauchamp  and  shook  his  hand.  He  does  not 
pay  many  compliments,  and  he  does  not  like  to  receive 
them,  but  it  was  impossible  for  him  not  to  be  moved  by 


INTERVIEW   WITH  DR.   SHRAPNEL  95 

Captain  Beauchamp's  warmth  in  thanking  him  for  the  words 
he  had  spoken.  I  saw  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  became  interested 
in  Captain  Beauchamp  the  longer  they  conversed.  We 
walked  home  together.  Captain  Beauchamp  supped  with 
us.  I  left  them  at  half-past  eleven  at  night,  and  in  the 
morning  I  found  them  walking  in  the  garden.  They  had 
not  gone  to  bed  at  all.  Captain  Beauchamp  has  remained 
in  Bevisham  ever  since.  He  soon  came  to  the  decision  to 
be  a  candidate  for  the  borough. '^ 

Eosamund  checked  her  lips  from  uttering,  To  be  a  pup- 
pet of  Dr.  Shrapnel's ! 

She  remarked,  "  He  is  very  eloquent  —  Dr.  Shrapnel  ?  " 

Miss  Denham  held  some  debate  with  herself  upon  the 
term. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  eloquence  ;  he  often  ...  no,  he  is  not 
an  orator." 

Eosamund  suggested  that  he  was  persuasive,  possibly. 

Again  the  young  lady  deliberately  weighed  the  word,  as 
though  the  nicest  measure  of  her  uncle  or  adoptor's  quality 
in  this  or  that  direction  were  in  requisition  and  of  impor- 
tance —  an  instance  of  a  want  of  delicacy  of  perception 
Eosamund  was  not  sorry  to  detect.  For  good-looking, 
refined-looking,  quick-witted  g-irls  can  be  grown ;  but  the 
nimble  sense  of  fitness,  ineffable  lightning-footed  tact,, 
comes  of  race  and  breeding,  and  she  was  sure  Nevil  was 
a  man  soon  to  feel  the  absence  of  that. 

"  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  persuasive  to  those  who  go  partly  with 
him,  or  whose  condition  of  mind  calls  on  him  for  great 
patience,"  Miss  Denham  said  at  last. 

"  I  am  only  trying  to  comprehend  how  it  was  that  he 
should  so  rapidly  have  won  Captain  Beauchamp  to  his 
views,"  Eosamund  explained ;  and  the  young  lady  did  not 
reply. 

Dr.  Shrapnel's  house  was  about  a  mile  beyond  the  town, 
on  a  common  of  thorn  and  gorse,  through  which  the  fir- 
bordered  highway  ran.  A  fence  waist-high  enclosed  its  plot 
of  meadow  and  garden,  so  that  the  doctor,  while  protecting 
his  own,  might  see  and  be  seen  of  the  world,  as  was  the  case 
when  Eosamund  approached.  He  was  pacing  at  long  slow 
strides  along  the  gravel  walk,  with  his  head  bent  and  bare, 
and  bis  hands  behind  his  back,  accompanied  by  a  gentlemau 


96  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

who  could  be  no  other  than  Nevil,  Eosamund  presumed  to 
think ;  but  drawing  nearer  she  found  she  was  mistaken. 

"  That  is  not  Captain  Beaucharap's  figure,"  she  said. 

"No,  it  is  not  he,"  said  Miss  Denham. 

Rosamund  saw  that  her  companion  was  pale.  She 
warmed  to  her  at  once ;  by  no  means  on  account  of  the 
pallor  in  itself. 

"  I  have  walked  too  fast  for  you,  I  fear." 

"  Oh  no  ;  I  am  accused  of  being  a  fast  walker." 

Eosamund  was  unwilling  to  pass  through  the  dema- 
gogue's gate.  On  second  thoughts,  she  reflected  that  she 
could  hardly  stipulate  to  have  news  of  ISTevil  tossed  to  her 
over  the  spikes,  and  she  entered. 

While  receiving  Dr.  Shrapnel's  welcome  to  a  friend  of 
Captain  Beauchamp,  she  observed  the  greeting  between 
Miss  Denham  and  the  younger  gentleman.  It  reassured 
her.     They  met  like  two  that  have  a  secret. 

The  dreaded  doctor  was  an  immoderately  tall  man,  lean 
and  wiry,  carelessly  clad  in  a  long  loose  coat  of  no  colour, 
loose  trowsers,  and  huge  shoes. 

He  stooped  from  his  height  to  speak,  or  rather  swing  the 
stiff  upper  half  of  his  body  down  to  his  hearer's  level  and 
back  again,  like  a  ship's  mast  on  a  billowy  sea.  He  was 
neither  rough  nor  abrupt,  nor  did  he  roar  bull-mouthedly 
as  demagogues  are  expected  to  do,  though  his  voice  was 
deep.  He  was  actually,  after  his  fashion,  courteous,  it 
could  be  said  of  him,  except  that  his  mind  was  too  visibly 
possessed  by  distant  matters  for  Eosamund's  taste,  she 
being  accustomed  to  drawing-room  and  hunting  and  mili- 
tary gentlemen,  who  can  be  all  in  the  words  they  utter. 
Nevertheless  he  came  out  of  his  lizard-like  look  with  the 
down-dropped  eyelids  quick  at  a  resumption  of  the  dia- 
logue ;  sometimes  gesturing,  sweeping  his  arm  round.  A 
stubborn  tuft  of  iron-grey  hair  fell  across  his  forehead,  and 
it  was  apparently  one  of  his  life's  labours  to  get  it  to  lie 
amid  the  mass,  for  his  'hand  rarely  ceased  to  be  in  motion 
without  an  impulsive  stroke  at  the  refractory  forelock. 
He  peered  through  his  eyelashes  ordinarily,  but  from  no 
infirmity  of  sight.  The  truth  was  that  the  man's  nature 
counteracted  his  spirit's  intenser  eagerness  and  restlessness 
by  alternating  a  state  of  repose  that  resembled  dormancy, 


INTERVIEW  WITH  DR.    SHRAPNEL  97 

and  so  preserved  him.  Rosamund  was  obliged  to  give  him 
credit  for  straightforward  eyes  when  they  did  look  out  and 
flash.  Their  filmy  blue,  half  overflown  with  grey  by  age, 
was  poignant  while  the  fire  in  them  lasted.  Her  antipathy 
attributed  something  electrical  to  the  light  they  shot. 

Dr.  ShrapnePs  account  of  Nevil  stated  him  to  have  gone 
to  call  on  Colonel  Halkett,  a  new  resident  at  Mount  Laurels, 
on  the  Otley  river.  He  offered  the  welcome  of  his  house  to 
the  lady  who  was  Captain  Beauchamp's  friend,  saying,  with 
extraordinary  fatuity  (so  it  sounded  in  Rosamund's  ears), 
that  Captain  Beauchamp  would  certainly  not  let  an  evening 
pass  without  coming  to  him .  Rosamund  suggested  that  he 
might  stay  late  at  Mount  Laurels. 

"Then  he  will  arrive  here  after  nightfall,"  said  the 
doctor.     "A  bed  is  at  your  service,  ma'am." 

The  offer  was  declined.  "  I  should  like  to  have  seen 
him  to-day;  but  he  will  be  home  shortly." 

"  He  will  not  quit  Bevisham  till  this  Election 's  decided 
unless  to  hunt  a  stray  borough  vote,  ma'am." 

"  He  goes  to  Mount  Laurels." 

"  For  that  purpose." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  will  persuade  Colonel  Halkett  to  vote 
in  the  Radical  interest." 

"  That  is  the  probability  with  a  landed  proprietor,  ma'am. 
We  must  knock,  whether  the  door  opens  or  not.  Like," 
the  doctor  laughed  to  himself  up  aloft,  "  like  a  watchman 
in  the  night  to  say  that  he  smells  smoke  on  the  premises." 

"  Surely  we  may  expect  Captain  Beauchamp  to  consult 
his  family  about  so  serious  a  step  as  this  he  is  taking," 
Rosamund  said,  with  an  effort  to  be  civil. 

"  Why  should  he  ?  "  asked  the  impending  doctor. 

His  head  continued  in  the  interrogative  position  when  it 
had  resumed  its  elevation.  The  challenge  for  a  definite 
reply  to  so  outrageous  a  question  irritated  Rosamund's 
nerves,  and,  loth  though  she  was  to  admit  him  to  the  sub- 
ject, she  could  not  forbear  from  saying :  "  Why  ?  Surely 
his  family  have  the  first  claim  on  him ! " 

"  Surely  not,  ma'am.  There  is  no  first  claim.  A  man's 
wife  and  children  have  a  claim  on  him  for  bread.  A 
man's  parents  have  a  claim  on  him  for  obedience  while  he 
13  a  child.     A  man's  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins  have  no 

7 


98  BEAUCHAIVIP'S  CAREER 

claim  on  him  at  all,  except  for  help  in  necessity,  which 
he  can  grant  and  they  require.  None  —  wife,  children, 
parents,  relatives  — none  has  a  claim  to  bar  his  judgement 
and  his  actions.  Sound  the  conscience,  and  sink  the  family  ! 
With  a  clear  conscience,  it  is  best  to  leave  the  family  to 
its  own  debates.  No  man  ever  did  brave  work  who  held 
counsel  with  his  family.  The  family  view  of  a  man's  fit 
conduct  is  the  weak  point  of  the  country.  It  is  no  other 
view  than,  '  Better  thy  condition  for  our  sakes.'  Ha !  In 
this  way  we  breed  sheep,  fatten  oxen  :  men  are  dying  off. 
Resolution  taken,  consult  the  family  means  —  waste  your 
time !  Those  who  go  to  it  want  an  excuse  for  altering 
their  minds.  The  family  view  is  everlastingly  the  shop- 
keeper's !  Purse,  pence,  ease,  increase  of  worldly  goods, 
personal  importance  —  the  pound,  the  English  pound ! 
Dare  do  that,  and  you  forfeit  your  share  of  Port  wine  in 
this  world ;  you  won't  be  dubbed  with  a  title ;  you  '11  be 
fingered  at !  Lord,  Lord  !  is  it  the  region  inside  a  man,  or 
out,  that  gives  him  peace  ?  Out,  they  say ;  for  they  have 
lost  faith  in  the  existence  of  an  inner.  They  have  n't  it. 
Air-sucker,  blood-pump,  cooking  machinery,  and  a  battery 
of  trained  instincts,  aptitudes,  fill  up  their  vacuum.  I 
repeat,  ma'am,  why  should  young  Captain  Beauchamp 
spend  an  hour  consulting  his  family  ?  They  won't  ap- 
prove him ;  he  knows  it.  They  may  annoy  him ;  and 
what  is  the  gain  of  that  ?  They  can't  move  him  ;  on  that 
I  let  my  right  hand  burn.  So  it  would  be  useless  on  both 
sides.  He  thinks  so.  So  do  I.  H^e  is  one  of  the  men  to 
serve  his  country  on  the  best  field  we  can  choose  for  him. 
In  a  ship's  cabin  he  is  thrown  away.  Ay,  ay.  War,  and  he 
may  go  aboard.  But  now  we  must  have  him  ashore.  .  Too 
few  of  such  as  he ! " 

"It  is  matter  of  opinion,"  said  Rosamund,  very  tightly 
compressed  ;  scarcely  knowing  what  she  said. 

How  strange,  besides  hateful,  it  was  to  her  to  hear  her 
darling  spoken  of  by  a  stranger  who  not  only  pretended  to 
appreciate  but  to  possess  him  !  A  stranger,  a  man  of  evil, 
with  monstrous  ideas !  A  terribly  strong  inexhaustible 
man,  of  a  magical  power  too ;  or  would  he  otherwise  have 
won  such  a  mastery  over  Nevil  ? 

Of  course  she  could  have  shot  a  rejoinder,  to  confute 


INTERVIEW  WITH  DR.    SHRAPNEL  99 

him  with  all  the  force  of  her  indignation,  save  that  the 
words  were  tumbling  about  in  her  head  like  a  world  in 
disruption,  which  made  her  feel  a  weakness  at  the  same 
time  that  she  gloated  on  her  capacity,  as  though  she  had 
an  enormous  army,  quite  overwhelming  if  it  could  but  be 
got  to  move  in  advance.  This  very  common  condition  of 
the  silent-stricken,  unused  in  dialectics,  heightened  Rosa- 
mund's disgust  by  causing  her  to  suppose  that  Nevil  had 
been  similarly  silenced,  in  his  case  vanquished,  captured, 
ruined ;  and  he  dwindled  in  her  estimation  for  a  moment 
or  two.  She  felt  that  among  a  sisterhood  of  gossips  she 
would  soon  have  found  her  voice,  and  struck  down  the 
demagogue's  audacious  sophisms  :  not  that  they  affected 
her  in  the  slightest  degree  for  her  own  sake  :  Shrapnel 
might  think  what  he  liked,  and  say  what  he  liked,  as  far 
as  she  was  concerned,  apart  from  the  man  she  loved. 
Rosamund  went  through  these  emotions  altogether  on 
Nevil's  behalf,  and  longed  for  her  affirmatizing  inspiring 
sisterhood  until  the  thought  of  them  threw  another  shade 
on  him. 

What  champion  was  she  to  look  to  ?  To  whom  but  to 
Mr.  Everard  Romfrey  ? 

It  was  with  a  spasm  of  delighted  reflection  that  she  hit 
on  Mr.  Romfrey.  He  was  like  a  discovery  to  her.  With 
his  strength  and  skill,  his  robust  common  sense  and  rough 
shrewd  wit,  his  prompt  comparisons,  his  chivalry,  his  love 
of  combat,  his  old  knightly  blood,  was  not  he  a  match,  and 
an  overmatch,  for  the  ramping  Radical  who  had  tangled 
Nevil  in  his  rough  snares  ?  She  ran  her  mind  over  Mr. 
Romfrey's  virtues,  down  even  to  his  towering  height  and 
breadth.  Could  she  but  once  draw  these  two  giants  into 
collision  in  Nevil's  presence,  she  was  sure  it  would  save 
him.  The  method  of  doing  it  she  did  not  stop  to  consider : 
she  enjoyed  her  triumph  in  the  idea. 

Meantime  she  had  passed  from  Dr.  Shrapnel  to  Miss 
Denham,  and  carried  on  a  conversation  becomingly.  Tea 
had  been  made  in  the  garden,  and  she  had  politely  sipped 
half  a  cup,  which  involved  no  step  inside  the  guilty  house, 
and  therefore  no  distress  to  her  antagonism.  The  sun 
descended.  She  heard  the  doctor  reciting.  Could  it  be 
poetry  ?    In  her  imagination  the  sombre  hues  surrounding 


100  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREEB 

an  incendiary  opposed  that  bright  spirit.  She  listened, 
smiling  incredulously.  Miss  Denham  could  interpret 
looks,  and  said,  "Dr.  Shrapnel  is  very  fond  of  those 
verses." 

Eosamund's  astonishment  caused  her  to  say,  "  Are  they 
his  own  ? "  —  a  piece  of  satiric  innocency  at  which  Miss 
Denham  laughed  softly  as  she  answered,  "  No." 

Kosamund  pleaded  that  she  had  not  heard  them  with  any 
distinctness. 

"  Are  they  written  by  the  gentleman  at  his  side  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Lydiard  ?  No.  He  writes,  but  the  verses  are  not 
his." 

"  Does  he  know  —  has  he  met  Captain  Beauchamp  ?  " 

"  Yes,  once.  Captain  Beauchamp  has  taken  a  great  liking 
to  his  works." 

Eosamund  closed  her  eyes,  feeling  that  she  was  in  a  nest 
that  had  determined  to  appropriate  Nevil.  But  at  any 
rate  there  was  the  hope  and  the  probability  that  this  Mr. 
Lydiard  of  the  pen  had  taken  a  long  start  of  Nevil  in  the 
heart  of  Miss  Denham :  and  struggling  to  be  candid,  to 
ensure  some  meditative  satisfaction,  Eosamund  admitted  to 
herself  that  the  girl  did  not  appear  to  be  one  of  the  wanton 
giddy-pated  pusses  who  play  two  gentlemen  or  more  on 
their  line.  Appearances,  however,  could  be  deceptive : 
never  pretend  to  know  a  girl  by  her  face,  was  one  of  Eosa- 
mund's maxims. 

She  was  next  informed  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  partiality  for 
music  toward  the  hour  of  sunset.  Miss  Denham  mentioned 
it,  and  the  doctor,  presently  sauntering  up,  invited  Eosa- 
mund to  a  seat  on  a  bench  near  the  open  window  of  the 
drawing-room.     He  nodded  to  his  ward  to  go  in. 

"  I  am  a  fire-worshipper,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  The  God  of 
day  is  the  father  of  poetry,  medicine,  music :  our  best 
friend.  See  him  there!  My  Jenny  will  spin  a  thread 
from  us  to  him  over  the  millions  of  miles,  with  one  touch 
of  the  chords,  as  quick  as  he  shoots  a  beam  on  us.  Ay  !  on 
her  wretched  tinkler  called  a  piano,  which  tries  at  the 
whole  orchestra  and  murders  every  instrument  in  the  at- 
tempt. But  it 's  c6nvenient,  like  our  modern  civilization 
—  a  tamina:  and  a  diminishing  of  individuals  for  an  insipid 
harmony ! " 


INTERVIEW   WITH  DR.    SHTIAPNFL  101 

"  You  surely  do  not  object  to  the  organ  ?  —  I  fear  I  can- 
not wait,  though,"  said  Rosamund. 

Miss  Denham  entreated  her.  "  Oh !  do,  madam.  Not  to 
hear  me  —  I  am  not  so  perfect  a  player  that  I  should  wish 
it  —  but  to  see  him.  Captain  Beauchamp  may  now  be  com- 
ing at  any  instant." 

Mr.  Lydiard  added,  "  I  have  an  appointment  with  him 
here  for  this  evening." 

"  You  build  a  cathedral  of  sound  in  the  organ,"  said  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  casting  out  a  league  of  leg  as  he  sat  beside  his 
only  half-persuaded  fretful  guest.  "  You  subject  the  winds 
to  serve  you ;  that 's  a  gain.  You  do  actually  accomplish  a 
resonant  imitation  of  the  various  instruments  ;  they  sing 
out  as  your  two  hands  command  them  —  trumpet,  flute, 
dulcimer,  hautboy,  drum,  storm,  earthquake,  ethereal 
quire  ;  you  have  them  at  your  option.  But  tell  me  of  an 
organ  in  the  open  air?  The  sublimity  would  vanish, 
ma'am,  both  from  the  notes  and  from  the  structure,  be- 
cause accessories  and  circumstances  produce  its  chief  effects. 
Say  that  an  organ  is  a  despotism,  just  as  your  piano  is  the 
Constitutional  bourgeois.  Match  them  with  the  trained 
orchestral  band  of  skilled  individual  performers,  indoors  or 
out,  where  each  grasps  his  instrument,  and  each  relies  on 
his  fellow  with  confidence,  and  an  unrivalled  concord  comes 
of  it.  That  is  our  republic  :  each  one  to  his  work ;  all  in 
union!  There's  the  motto  for  us!  Then  you  have  music, 
harmony,  the  highest,  fullest,  finest !  Educate  your  men 
to  form  a  band,  you  shame  dexterous  trickery  and  imitation 
sounds.  Then  for  the  difference  of  real  instruments  from 
clever  shams  !  Oh,  ay,  one  will  set  your  organ  going  ;  that 
is,  one  in  front,  with  his  couple  of  panting  air-pumpers  be- 
hind —  his  ministers  ! "  Dr.  Shrapnel  laughed  at  some 
undefined  mental  image,  apparently  careless  of  any  laugh- 
ing companionship.  "  One  will  do  it  for  you,  especially  if 
he  's  born  to  do  it.  Born  ! "  A  slap  of  the  knee  reported 
what  seemed  to  be  an  immensely  contemptuous  sentiment. 
"  But  free  mouths  blowing  into  brass  and  wood,  ma'am, 
beat  your  bellows  and  your  whifflers;  your  artificial 
choruses  —  crash,  crash !  your  unanimous  plebiscitums  ! 
Beat  them  ?  There  's  no  contest :  we  're  in  another  world  j 
we  're  in  the  sun's  world,  —  yonder  I " 


i02  BEATJOHAMP'S   CAEEER 

Miss  Denham's  opening  notes  on  the  despised  piano  put 
a  curb  on  the  doctor.  She  began  a  Mass  of  Mozart's,  with- 
out the  usual  preliminary  rattle  of  the  keys,  as  of  a  crier 
announcing  a  performance,  straight  to  her  task,  for  which 
Kosamund  thanked  her,  liking  that  kind  of  composed  sim- 
plicity :  she  thanked  her  more  for  cutting  short  the  doctor's 
fanatical  nonsense.  It  was  perceptible  to  her  that  a  species 
of  mad  metaphor  had  been  wriggling  and  tearing  its  pas- 
sage through  a  thorn-bush  in  his  discourse,  with  the  furious 
urgency  of  a  sheep  in  a  panic ;  but  where  the  ostensible 
subject  ended  and  the  metaphor  commenced,  and  which  was 
which  at  the  conclusion,  she  found  it  difficult  to  discern  — 
much  as  the  sheep  would  be  when  he  had  left  his  fleece 
behind  him.     She  could  now  have  said,  ^^ Silly  old  man!" 

Dr.  Shrapnel  appeared  most  placable.  He  was  gazing  at 
his  Authority  in  the  heavens,  tangled  among  gold  clouds 
and  purple  ;  his  head  bent  acutely  on  one  side,  and  his  eyes 
upturned  in  dim  speculation.  His  great  feet  planted  on 
their  heels  faced  him,  suggesting  the  stocks  ;  his  arms  hung 
loose.  Full  many  a  hero  of  the  alehouse,  anciently  amena- 
ble to  leg-and-foot  imprisonment  in  the  grip  of  the  parish, 
has  presented  as  respectable  an  air.  His  forelock  straggled 
as  it  willed. 

Rosamund  rose  abruptly  as  soon  as  the  terminating  notes 
of  the  Mass  had  been  struck. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  seemed  to  be  concluding  his  devotions  before 
,he  followed  her  example. 

"There,  ma'am,  you  have  a  telegraphic  system  for  the 
soul,"  he  said.  "It  is  harder  work  to  travel  from  this  place 
to  this  "  (he  pointed  at  ear  and  breast)  "  than  from  here  to 
yonder  "  (a  similar  indication  traversed  the  distance  between 
earth  and  sun).  "Man's  aim  has  hitherto  been  to  keep  men 
from  having  a  soul  for  this  world :  he  takes  it  for  something 
infernal.  He  ?  —  I  mean,  they  that  hold  power.  They 
shudder  to  think  the  conservatism  of  the  earth  will  be 
shaken  by  a  change ;  they  dread  they  won't  get  men  with 
souls  to  fetch  and  carry,  dig,  root,  mine,  for  them.  Eight  ! 
—  what  then  ?  Digging  and  mining  will  be  done  ;  so  will 
harping  and  singing.  But  then  we  have  a  natural  optimacy  ! 
Then,  on  the  one  hand,  we  whip  the  man-beast  and  the  man- 
sloth  j  on  the  other,  we  seize  that  old  fatted  iniquity  —  that 


INTERVIEW   WITH  DR.    SHRAPNEL  103 

tyrant !  that  tempter !  that  legitimated  swindler  cursed  of 
Christ !  that  palpable  Satan  whose  name  is  Capital !  —  by 
the  neck,  and  have  him  disgorging  within  three  gasps  of 
his  life.  He  is  the  villain !  Let  him  live,  for  he  too  comes 
of  blood  and  bone.  He  shall  not  grind  the  faces  of  the 
poor  and  helpless  —  that 's  all." 

The  comicality  of  her  having  such  remarks  addressed  to 
her  provoked  a  smile  on  Rosamund's  lips. 

''  Don't  go  at  him  like  Samson  blind,'^  said  Mr.  Lydiard ; 
and  Miss  Denham,  who  had  returned,  begged  her  guardian 
to  entreat  the  guest  to  stay. 

She  said  in  an  undertone,  "I  am  very  anxious  you  should 
see  Captain  Beauchamp,  madam." 

"  I  too ;  but  he  will  write,  and  I  really  can  wait  no 
longer,"  Eosaraund  replied,  in  extreme  apprehension  lest  a 
certain  degree  of  pressure  should  overbear  her  repugnance 
to  the  doctor's  dinner-table.  Miss  Denham's  look  was  fixed 
on  her ;  but,  whatever  it  might  mean,  Rosamund's  endur- 
ance was  at  an  end.  She  was  invited  to  dine;  she  refused. 
She  was  exceedingly  glad  to  find  herself  on  the  high-road 
again,  with  a  prospect  of  reaching  Steynham  that  night; 
for  it  was  important  that  she  should  not  have  to  confess  a 
visit  to  Bevisham  now  when  she  had  so  little  of  favourable 
to  tell  Mr.  Everard  Romfrey  of  his  chosen  nephew. 
Whether  she  had  acted  quite  wisely  in  not  remaining  to  see 
Nevil,  was  an  agitating  question  that  had  to  be  silenced  by 
an  appeal  to  her  instincts  of  repulsion,  and  a  further  appeal 
for  justification  of  them  to  her  imaginary  sisterhood'  of 
gossips.  How  could  she  sit  and  eat,  how  pass  an  evening 
in  that  house,  in  the  society  of  that  man?  Her  tuneful 
chorus  cried,  "  How  indeed."  Besides,  it  would  have 
offended  Mr.  Romfrey  to  hear  that  she  had  done  so.  Still 
she  could  not  refuse  to  remember  Miss  Denham's  marked 
intimations  of  there  being  a  reason  for  Nevil's  friend  to 
seize  the  chance  of  an  immediate  interview  with  him  ;  and 
in  her  distress  at  the  thought,  Rosamund  reluctantly,  but 
as  if  compelled  by  necessity,  ascribed  the  young  lady's  con- 
duct to  a  strong  sense  of  personal  interests. 

"  Evidently  she  has  no  desire  he  should  run  the  risk  of 
angering  a  rich  uncle." 

This  shameful  suspicion  was  unavoidable  :  there  was  no 


104  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

other  opiate  for  Eosamund's  blame  of  herself  after  letting 
her  instincts  gain  the  ascendancy. 

It  will  be  found  a  common  case,  that  when  we  have 
yielded  to  our  instincts,  and  then  have  to  soothe  conscience, 
we  must  slaughter  somebody,  for  a  sacrificial  offering  to 
our  sense  of  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A   SUPERFINE   CONSCIENCE 


However  much  Mr.  Everard  Romf rey  may  have  laughed 
at  Nevil  Beauchamp  with  his  "  banana-wreath,"  he  liked  the 
fellow  for  having  volunteered  for  that  African  coast-service, 
and  the  news  of  his  promotion  by  his  admiral  to  the  post  of 
commander  through  a  death  vacancy,  had  given  him  an 
exalted  satisfaction,  for  as  he  could  always  point  to  the 
cause  of  failures,  he  strongly  appreciated  success.  The 
circumstance  had  offered  an  occasion  for  the  new  com*' 
mander  to  hit  him  hard  upon  a  matter  of  fact.  Beauchamp 
had  sent  word  of  his  advance  in  rank,  but  requested  his 
uncle  not  to  imagine  him  wearing  an  additional  epaulette  ; 
and  he  corrected  the  infallible  gentleman's  error  (which 
had  of  course  been  reported  to  him  when  he  was  dreaming 
of .  Renee,  by  Mrs.  Culling)  concerning  a  lieutenant's 
shoulder  decorations,  most  gravely ;  informing  him  of  the 
anchor  on  the  lieutenant's  pair  of  epaulettes,  and  the 
anchor  and  star  on  a  commander's,  and  the  crown  on  a  cap- 
tain's, with  a  well-feigned  solicitousness  to  save  his  uncle 
from  blundering  further.  This  was  done  in  the  dry  neat 
manner  which  Mr.  Romf  rey  could  feel  to  be  his  own  turned 
on  him.         v 

He  began  to  conceive  a  vague  respect  for  the  fellow  who 
had  proved  him  wrong  upon  a  matter  of  fact.  Beauchamp 
came  from  Africa  rather  worn  by  the  climate,  and  immedi- 
ately obtained  the  command  of  the  Ariadne  corvette,  which 
had  been, some  time  in  commission  in  the  Mediterranean, 
whither  he  departed,  without  visiting  Steynham ;  allowing 


A  SXTPERFINE  CONSCIENCE  105 

Rosamund  to  think  him  tenacious  of  his  wrath  as  well  as 
of  love.  Mr.  Romfrey  considered  him  to  be  insatiable  for 
service.  Beauchamp,  during  his  absence,  had  shown  him- 
self awake  to  the  affairs  of  his  country  once  only,  in  an 
urgent  supplication  he  had  forwarded  for  all  his  nucleus 
influence  to  be  used  to  get  him  appointed  to  the  first  va- 
cancy in  Robert  Hall's  naval  brigade,  then  forming  a  part  of 
our  handful  in  insurgent  India.  The  fate  of  that  chivalrous 
Englishman,  that  born  sailor-warrior,  that  truest  of  heroes, 
imperishable  in  the  memory  of  those  who  knew  him,  and 
in  our  annals,  young  though  he  was  when  death  took,  him, 
had  wrung  from  Nevil  Beauchamp  such  a  letter  of  tears  as 
'  to  make  Mr.  Romfrey  believe  the  naval  crown  of  glory  his 
highest  ambition.  Who  on  earth  could  have  guessed  him  to 
be  bothering  his  head  about  .politics  all  the  while  !  Or  was 
the  Whole  stupid  business  a  freak  of  the  moment  ?.-, 

It  became  necessary  for  Mr.  Romfrey  to  contemplate  his 
eccentric  nephew  in  the  light  of  a  mannikin  once  more. 
Consequently  he  called  to  mind,  and  bade  Rosamund  Culling 
remember,  that  he  had  foreseen  and  had  predicted  the 
mounting  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  on  his  political  horse  one, 
day  or  another;  and  perhaps  the  earlier  the  better.  And 
a  donkey  could  have  sworn  that  when  he  did  mount  he 
would  come  galloping  in  among  the  Radical  rough-riders. 
Letters  were  pouring  upon  Steynham  from  men  and  women 
of  Romfrey  blood  and  relationship  concerning  the  positive 
tone  of  Radicalism  in  the  commander's  address.  Everard 
laughed  at  them.  As  a  practical  man,  his  objection  lay  ^ 
against  the  poor  fool's  choice  of  the  peccant  borough  of 
Bevisham.  Still,  in  view  of  the  needfulness  of  his  learning  , 
wisdom,  and  rapidly,  the  disbursement  of  a  lot  of  his 
money,  certain  to  be  required  by  Bevisham's  electors", 
seemed  to  be  the  surest  method  for  quickening  his  .wits. 
Thus  would  he  be  acting  as  his  own  chirurgeon,  gaily  prac- 
tising phlebotomy  on  his  person  to  cure  him  of  his  fever. 
Too  much  money  was  not  the  origin  of  the  fever  in  NeviPs 
case,  but  he  had  too  small  a  sense  of  the  value  of  what  he 
possessed,  and  the  diminishing  stock  would  be  likely  to  cry 
out  shrilly. 

To  this  effect,  never  complaining  that  Nevil  Beauchamp 
had  not  come  to  him  to  take  counsel  with  him,  the  high- 


106  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

minded  old  gentleman  talked.  At  the  same  time,  while 
indulging  in  so  philosophical  a  picture  of  himself  as  was 
presented  by  a  Romfrey  mildly  accounting  for  events  and 
smoothing  them  under  the  infliction  of  an  offence,  he  could 
not  but  feel  that  ISTevil  had  challenged  him:  such  was  the. 
reading  of  it;'?<hdhe  waited  for  some  justifiable  excitement 
to  fetch '  him  out  of  the  magnanimous  mood,  rather  in  the 
image  of  an  angler,  it  must  be  owned. 

"  Nevil  understands  that  I  am  not  going  to  pay  a  farthing 
of  his  expenses  in  Bevisham  ?  "  he  said  to  Mrs.  Culling.     , 

She  replied  blandly  and  with  innocence,  "  I  have  not  seen 
him,  sir.'' 

He  nodded.  At  the  next  mention  of  Nevil  between  them, 
he  asked,  "  Where  is  it  he 's  lying  perdu,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  in  that  town,  in  Bevisham." 

''  At  the  Liberal,  Eadical,  hotel  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  ;  some  place  ;  I  am  not  certain.  .  .  ." 

"  The  rascal  doctor's  house  there  ?     Shrapners  ?  " 

"Really  ...  I  have  not  seen  him." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  him  ?  " 

*^  I  have  had  a  letter ;  a  short  one." 

"  Where  did  he  date  his  letter  from  ?  " 

"  From  Bevisham." 

"  From  what  house  ?  " 

Rosamund  glanced  about  for  a  way  of  escaping  the  ques- 
tion. There  was  none  but  the  door.  She  replied,  "  From 
Dr.  Shrapnel's." 

'* That's  the  Anti-Game-Law  agitator." 

"  You  do  not  imagine,  sir,  that  Nevil  subscribes  to  every 
thiftg  the  horrid  man  agitates  for  ?  " 

"  You  don't  like  the  man,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  I  detest  him." 

"  Ha !     So  you  have  seen  Shrapnel  ?  " 

"  Only  for  a  moment ;  a  moment  or  two.  I  cannot  endure 
him.     I  am  sure  I  have  reason." 

Rosamund  flushed  exceedingly  red.  The  visit  to  Dr. 
Shrapnel's  house  was  her  secret,  and  the  worming  of  it  out 
made  her  feel  guilty,  and  that  feeling  revived  and  heated 
her  antipathy  to  the  Radical  doctor. 

"  What  reason  ?  "  said  Mr.  Romf rey,  freshening  at  her 
display  of  colour. 


A  SUPERFINE  CONSCIENCE  l07 

She  would  not  expose  Nevil  to  the  accusation  of  childish- 
ness by  confessing  her  positive  reason,  so  she  answered: 
"  The  man  is  a  kind  of  man  ...  I  was  not  there  long ;  I 
was  glad  to  escape.  He  .  .  ."  she  hesitated :  for  in  truth 
it  was  difficult  to  shape  the  charge  against  him,  and  the 
effort  to  be  reticent  concerning  Nevil,  an4  communicative, 
now  that  he  had  been  spoken  of,  as  to  the  detested  doctor, 
reduced  her  to  some  confusion.  She  was  also  fatally  anxious 
4i0  be  in  the  extreme  degree  conscientious,  and  corrected  and 
.modified  her  remarks  most  suspiciously. 

"  Did  he  insult  you,  ma'am  ?  "   Mr.  Eomfrey  inquired. 

She  replied  hastily  :  "  Oh  no.  He  may  be  a  good  man  in 
his  way.  He  is  one  of  those  men  who  do  not  seem  to  think 
a  woman  may  have  opinions.  He  does  not  scruple  to  out- 
rage those  we  hold.  I  am  afraid  he  is  an  infidel.  His  ideas 
of  family  duties  and  ties,  and  his  manner  of  expressing 
himself,  shocked  me,  that  is  all.  He  is  absurd.  I  dare  say 
there  is  no  harm  in  him,  except  for  those  who  are  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  fall  under  his  influence  —  and  that,  I  feel 
sure,  cannot  be  permanent.  He  could  not  injure  me  per- 
sonally. He  could  not  offend  me,  I  mean.  Indeed,  I  have 
nothing  whatever  to  say  against  him,  as  far  as  I  .  .  .'' 

"  Did  he  fail  to  treat  you  as  a  lady,  ma'am  ?  " 

Eosamund  was  getting  frightened  by  the  significant 
pertinacity  of  her  lord. 

"I  am  sure,  sir,  he  meant  no  harm.'' 

"  Was  the  man  uncivil  to  you,  ma'am  ? "  came  the  em- 
phatic interrogation. 

She  asked  herself,  had  Dr.  Shrapnel  been  uncivil  toward 
her  ?  And  so  conscientious  was  she,  that  she  allowed  the 
question  to  be  debated  in  her  mind  for  half  a  minute, 
answering  then:  "No,  not  uncivil.  I  cannot  exactly  ex- 
plain .  .  .  He  certainly  did  not  intend  to  be  uncivil.  He 
is  only  an  unpolished,  vexatious  man ;  enormously  tall." 

Mr.  Eomfrey  ejaculated,  "  Ha  !  humph  ! " 

His  view  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  was  taken  from  that  instant. 
It  was,  that  this  enormously  big  blustering  agitator  against 
the  preservation  of  birds  had  behaved  rudely  toward  the 
lady  officially  the  chief  of  his  household,  and  might  be  con- 
sidered in  the  light  of  an  adversary  one  would  like  to  meet. 
The  size  of  the  man  increased  his  aspect  of  villany,  which 


108  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

in  return  added  largely  to  his  giant  size.  Everard  Rom- 
frey's  mental  eye  could  perceive  an  attractiveness  about  the 
man  little  short  of  magnetic  ;  for  he  thought  of  him  so  much 
that  he  had  to  think  of  what  was  due  to  his  pacifical  dis- 
position (deeply  believed  in  by  him)  to  spare  himself  the 
trouble  of  a  visit  to  Bevisham. 

The  young  gentleman  whom  he  regarded  as  the  Eadical 
doctor's  dupe,  fell  in  for  a  share  of  his  view  of  the  doctor, 
and  Mr.  Romfrey  became  less  fitted  to  observe  Nevil  Beau- 
champ's  doings  with  the  Olympian  gravity  he  had  originally 
assumed. 

The  extreme  delicacy  of  Rosamund's  conscience  was 
fretted  by  a  remorseful  doubt  of  her  having  conveyed  a  just 
impression  of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  somewhat  as  though  the  sleek 
fine  coat  of  it  were  brushed  the  wrong  way.  Reflection 
warned  her  that  her  deliberative  intensely  sincere  pause  be- 
fore she  responded  to  Mr.  Romfrey's  last  demand,  might 
have  implied  more  than  her  words.  She  consoled  herself 
with  the  thought  that  it  was  the  dainty  susceptibility  of  her 
conscientiousness  which  caused  these  noble  qualms,  and  so 
deeply  does  a  refined  nature  esteem  the  gift,  that  her  pride 
in  it  helped  her  to  overlook  her  moral  perturbation.  She 
was  consoled,  moreover,  up  to  the  verge  of  triumph  in  her 
realization  of  the  image  of  a  rivalling  and  excelling  power 
presented  by  Mr.  Romfrey,  though  it  had  frightened  her  at 
the  time.  Let  not  Dr.  Shrapnel  come  across  him!  She 
hoped  he  would  not.  Ultimately  she  could  say  to  herself, 
"  Perhaps  I  need  not  have  been  so  annoyed  with  the  horrid 
man."  It  was  on  Nevil's  account.  ,  Shrapnel's  contempt  of 
the  claims  of  Nevil's  family  upon  him  was  actually  a  piece 
of  impudence,  impudently  expressed,  if  she  remembered 
correctly.  And  Shrapnel  was  a  black  malignant,  the  foe  of 
the  nation's  Constitution,  deserving  of  punishment  if  ever 
man  was ;  with  his  ridiculous  metaphors,  and  talk  of  organs 
and  pianos,  orchestras  and  despotisms,  and  flying  to  the 
sun !  How  could  Nevil  listen  to  the  creature !  Shrapnel 
must  be  a  shameless  hypocrite  to  mask  his  wickedness  from 
one  so  clear-sighted  as  Nevil,  and  no  doubt  he  indulged  in 
his  impudence  out  of  wanton  pleasure  in  it.  His  business 
was  to  catch  young  gentlemen  of  family,  and  to  turn  them 
against  their  families,  plainly.    That  was  thinking  the  best 


THE  LEADIISTG  ARTICLE  10,9 

of  him.  No  doubt  lie  had  his  objects  to  gain.  "  He  might 
have  been  as  impudent  as  he  liked  to  me ;  I  would  have 
pardoned  him ! "  Rosamund  exclaimed.  Personally,  you  see, 
she  was  generous.  On  the  whole,  knpwing  Everard,  Rom- 
frey  as  she  did,  she  wished  that  she  had  behaved,  albeit 
perfectly  discreet  in  her  behaviour,  and  conscientiously  just, 
a  shade  or  two  differently.    But  the  evil  was  done. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    LEADING   ARTICLE   AND    MR.   TIMOTHY   TURBOT 

Nevil  declined  to  come  to  Steynham,  clearly  owing  to  a 
dread  of  hearing  Dr.  Shrapnel  abused,  as  Rosamund  judged 
by  the  warmth  of  his  written  eulogies  of  the  man,  and  an 
ensuing  allusion  to  Game.  He  said  that  he  had  not  made 
up  his  mind  as  to  the  Game  Laws.  Rosamund  mentioned 
the  fact  to  Mr.  Romfrey.  "So  we  may  stick  by  our  licences 
to  shoot  to-morrow,"  he  rejoined.  Of  a  letter  that  he  also 
had  received  from  Nevil,  he  did  not  speak.  She  hinted  at 
it,  and  he  stared.  He  would  have  deemed  it  as  vain  a  sub- 
ject to  discourse  of  India,  or  Continental  affairs,  at  a  period 
when  his  house  was  full  for  the  opening  day  of  sport,  and 
the  expectation  of  keeping  up  his  renown  for  great  bags  on 
,that  day  so  entirely  occupied  his  mind.  Good  shots  were 
present  who  had  contributed  to  the  fame  of  Steynham  on 
other  opening  days.  Birds  were  plentiful  and  promised  not 
to  be  too  wild.  He  had  the  range  of  the  Steynham  estate  in 
his  eye,  dotted  with  covers  ;  and  after  Steynham,  Holdes- 
bury,  which  had  never  yielded  him  the  same  high  celebrity, 
but  both  lay  mapped  out  for  action  under  thfe  profound  cal- 
culations of  the  strategist,  ready  to  show  the  skill  of  the 
field  tactician.  He  could  not  attend  to  Nevil.  Even  the 
talk  of  the  forthcoming  Elections,  hardly  to  be  avoided  at 
his  table,  seemed  a  puerile  distraction.  Ware  the  foe  of  his 
partridges  and  pheasants,  be  it  man  or  rermin !  The  name 
of  Shrapnel  was  frequently  on  the  tongue  of  Captain  Baske- 
lett,    Rosamund  heard  him,  in  her  room,  and  his  derisive 


110  BE AUCH amp's   CAREER 

shouts  of  laughter  over  it.  Cecil  was  a  fine  shot,  quite  as 
fond  of  the  pastime  as  his  uncle,  and  always  in  favour  with 
him  while  sport  stalked  the  land.  He  was  in  gallant  spirits, 
and  K/Osamund,  brooding  over  NeviFs  fortunes,  and  sitting 
much  alone,  as  she  did  when  there  were  guests  in  the  house, 
gave  way  to  her  previous  apprehensions.  She  touched  on 
them  to  Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett,  her  husband's  old  friend,  one 
of  those  happy  men  who  enjoy  perceptions  without  opinions, 
and  are  not  born  to  administer  comfort  to  other  than  them- 
selves. As  far  as  she  could  gather,  he  fancied  Nevil  Beau- 
champ  was  in  danger  of  something,  but  he  delivered  his 
mind  only  upon  circumstances  and  characters  :  Nevil  risked 
his  luck,  Cecil  knew  his  game,  Everard  Eomfrey  was  the 
staunchest  of  mankind :  Stukely  had  nothing  further  to  say 
regarding  the  situation.  She  asked  him  what  he  thought, 
and  he  smiled.  Could  a  reasonable  head  venture  to  think 
anything  in  particular  ?  He  repeated  the  amazed,  "  You 
don't  say  so  "  of  Colonel  Halkett,  on  hearing  the  name  of 
the  new  Liberal  candidate  for  Bevisham  at  the  dinner-table, 
together  with  some  of  Cecil's  waggish  embroidery  upon  the 
theme. 

Kosamund  exclaimed  angrily,  "  Oh !  if  I  had  been  there 
he  would  not  have  dared." 

"  Why  not  be  there  ?  "  said  Stukely.  "  You  have  had 
your  choice  for  a  number  of  years." 

She  shook  her  head,  reddening. 

But  supposing  that  she  had  greater  privileges  than  were 
hers  now  ?  The  idea  flashed.  A  taint  of  personal  pique, 
awakened  by  the  fancied  necessity  for  putting  her  devoted- 
ness  to  Kevil  to  proof,  asked  her  if  she  would  then  be  the 
official  housekeeper  to  whom  Captain  Baskelett  bowed  low 
with  affected  respect  and  impertinent  affability,  ironically 
praising  her  abroad  as  a  wonder  among  women,  that  could 
at  one  time  have  played  the  deuce  in  the  family,  had  she 
chosen  to  do  so. 

"  Just  as  you  like,"  Mr.  Culbrett  remarked.  It  was  his 
ironical  habit  of  mind  to  believe  that  the  wishes  of  men 
and  women  —  women  as  well  as  men  —  were  expressed  by 
their  utterances. 

"  But  speak  of  Nevil  to  Colonel  Halkett,"  said  Rosamund, 
earnestly  carrying  on  what  was  in  her  heart.     "  Fersuade 


THE  LEADING  ARTICLE  111 

the  colonel  you  do  not  think  Nevil  foolish  —  not  more  than 
just  a  little  impetuous.  I  want  that  marriage  to  come  off ! 
Not  on  account  of  her  wealth.  She  is  to  inherit  a  Welsh 
mine  from  her  uncle,  you  know,  besides  being  an  only  child. 
Recall  what  Nevil  was  during  the  war.  Miss  Halkett  has 
not  forgotten  it,  I  am  sure,  and  a  good  word  for  him  from 
a  man  of  the  world  would,  I  am  certain,  counteract  Captain 
Baskelett's  —  are  they  designs  ?  At  any  rate,  you  can  if  you 
like  help  Nevil  with  the  colonel.  T  am  convinced  they  are 
doing  him  a  mischief.  Colonel  Halkett  has  bought  an  es- 
tate —  and  what  a  misfortune  that  is  !  —  close  to  Bevisham. 
I  fancy  he  is  Toryish.  Will  you  not  speak  to  him  ?  At 
my  request  ?     I  am  so  helpless  I  could  cry.'' 

"  Fancy  you  have  no  handkerchief,"  said  Mr.  Culbrett : 
"  and  give  up  scheming,  pray.  One  has  only  to  begin  to 
scheme,  to  shorten  life  to  half-a-dozen  hops  and  jumps.  I 
could  say  to  the  colonel,  *  Young  Beauchamp  's  a  political 
cub :  he  ought  to  have  a  motherly  wife.' " 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  are  right ;  don't  speak  to  him  at  all,"  said 
Eosamund,  feeling  that  there  must  be  a  conspiracy  to  rob 
her  of  her  proud  independence,  since  not  a  soul  could  be 
won  to  spare  her  from  taking  some  energetic  step,  if  she 
would  be  useful  to  him  she  loved. 

Colonel  Halkett  \vas  one  of  the  guests  at  Steynham  who 
knew  and  respected  her,  and  he  paid  her  a  visit  and  alluded 
to  Nevil's  candidature,  apparently  not  thinking  much  the 
worse  of  him.  "We  can't  allow  him  to  succeed,"  he  said, 
and  looked  for  a  smiling  approval  of  such  natural  opposition 
which  Rosamund  gave  him  readily  after  he  had  expressed 
the  hope  that  Nevil  Beauchamp  would  take  advantage  of 
his  proximity  to  Mount  Laurels  during  the  contest  to  try 
the  hospitality  of  the  house.  "He  won't  mind  meeting 
his  uncle  ?  "  The  colonel's  eyes  twinkled.  "  My  daughter 
has  engaged  Mr.  Romfrey  and  Captain  Baskelett  to  come 
to  us  when  they  have  shot  Holdesbury." 

And  Captain  Baskelett!  thought  Rosamund;  her  jeal- 
ousy whispering  that  the  mention  of  his  name  close  upon 
Cecilia  Halkett's  might  have  a  nuptial  signification. 

She  was  a  witness  from  her  window  —  a  prisoner's  win- 
dow, her  eager  heart  could  have  termed  it  —  of  a  remark- 
able ostentation  of  cordiality  between  the  colonel  and 


112  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAKEER 

Cecil,  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Komfrey.  Was  it  his  humour 
to  conspire  to  hand  Miss  Halkett  to  Cecil,  and  then  to 
show  Nevil  the  prize  he  had  forfeited  by  his  folly?  The 
three  were  on  the  lawn  a  little  before  Colonel  Halkett's 
departure.  The  colonel's  arm  was  linked  with  Cecil's 
while  they  conversed.  Presently  the  latter  received  his 
afternoon's  letters,  and  a  newspaper. .  He  soon  had  the 
paper  out  at  a  square  stretch,  and  sprightly  information 
for  the  other  two  was  visible  in  his  crowing  throat.  Mr. 
Romfrey  raised  the  gun  from  his  shoulder-pad,  and 
grounded  it.  Colonel  Halkett  wished  to  peruse  the  matter 
with  his  own  eyes,  but  Cecil  could  not  permit  it;  he  must 
read  it  aloud  for  them,  and  he  suited  his  action  to  the  sen- 
tences. Had  Rosamund  been  accustomed  to  leading  arti- 
cles which  are  the  composition  of  men  of  an  imposing 
vocabulary,  she  would  have  recognized  and  as  good  as 
read  one  in  Cecil's  gestures  as  he  tilted  his  lofty  stature 
forward  and  back,  marking  his  commas  and  semicolons 
with  flapping  of  his  elbows,  and  all  but  doubling  his  body 
at  his  periods.  Mr.  Romfrey  had  enough  of  it  half-way 
down  the  column;  his  head  went  sharply  to  left  and  right. 
Cecil's  peculiar  foppish  slicing  down  of  his  hand  pictured 
him  protesting  that  there  was  more  and  finer  of  the  inim- 
itable stuff  to  follow.  The  end  of  the  scene  exhibited  the 
paper  on  the  turf,  and  Colonel  Halkett's  hand  on  Cecil's 
shoulder,  Mr.  Romfrey  nodding  some  sort  of  acquiescence 
over  the  muzzle  of  his  gun,  whether  reflective  or  positive 
Rosamund  could  not  decide.  She  sent  out  a  footman  for 
the  paper,  and  was  presently  communing  with  its  eloquent 
large  type,  quite  unable  to  perceive  where  the  comicality 
or  the  impropriety  of  it  lay,  for  it  would  have  struck  her 
that  never  were  truer  things  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  better 
said  in  the  tone  befitting  them.  This  perhaps  was  because 
she  never  heard  fervid  praises  of  him,  or  of  anybody,  de- 
livered from  the  mouth,  and  it  is  not  common  to  hear  Eng- 
lishmen phrasing  great  eulogies  of  one  another.  StilL  as 
a  rule,  they  do  not  object  to  have  it  performed  in  that 
region  of  our  national  eloquence,  the  Press,  by  an  Irishman 
or  a  Scotchman.  'And  what  could  there  be  to  warrant 
Captain  Baskelett's' malicious  derision,  and  Mr.  Romfrey's 
nodding  assent  to *it,  in  a,n  article  where  all  was  truth? 


THE  LEADING   ARTICLE  113 

The  truth  was  mounted  on  an  unusually  high  wind.  It 
was  indeed  a  leading  article  of  a  banner-like  bravery,  and 
the  unrolling  of  it  was  designed  to  stir  emotions.  Beau- 
champ  was  the  theme.  Nevil  had  it  under  his  eyes  earlier 
than  Cecil.  The  paper  was  brought  into  his  room  with 
the  beams  of  day,  damp  from  the  presses  of  the  Bevisham 
Gazette,  exactly  opposite  to  him  in  the  White  Hart  Hotel, 
and  a  glance  at  the  paragraphs  gave  him  a  lively  ardour  to 
spring  to  his  feet.  What  writing!  He  was  uplifted  as 
"  The  heroical  Commander  Beauchamp,  of  the  Royal  Navy," 
and  "Commander  Beauchamp,  K.N.,  a  gentleman  of  the 
highest  connections  "  :  he  was  "  that  illustrious  Commander 
Beauchamp,  of  our  matchless  navy,  who  proved  on  every 
field  of  the  last  glorious  war  of  this  country  that  the  tra- 
ditional valour  of  the  noble  and  indomitable  blood  trans- 
mitted to  his  veins  had  lost  none  of  its  edge  and  weight 
since  the  battle-axes  of  the  Lords  de  Komfrey,  ever  to  the 
fore,  clove  the  skulls  of  our  national  enemy  on  the  wide 
and  fertile  champaigns  of  France."     This  was  pageantry. 

There  was  more  of  it.  Then  the  serious  afflatus  of  the 
article  condescended,  as  it  were,  to  blow  a  shrill  and  well- 
known  whistle :  —  the  study  of  the  science  of  navigation 
made  by  Commander  Beauchamp,  R.N.,  was  cited  for  a 
jocose  warranty  of  a  seaman's  aptness  to  assist  in  steering 
the  Vessel  of  the  State.  After  thus  heeling  over,  to  tip  a 
familiar  wink  to  the  multitude,  the  leader  tone  resumed  its 
fit  deportment.  Commander  Beauchamp,  in  responding  to 
the  invitation  of  the  great  and  united  Liberal  party  of  the 
borough  of  Bevisham,  obeyed  the  inspirations  of  genius, 
the  dictates  of  humanity,  and  what  he  rightly  considered 
the  paramount  duty,  as  it  is  the  proudest  ambition,  of  the 
citizen  of  a  free  country. 

But  for  an  occasional  drop  and  bump  of  the  sailing  gas- 
bag upon  catch-words  of  enthusiasm,  which  are  the  rhetoric 
of  the  merely  windy,  and  a  collapse  on  a  poetic  line,  which 
too  often  signalizes  the  rhetorician's  emptiness  of  his 
wind,  the  article  was  eminent  for  flight,  sweep,  and  dash, 
and  sailed  along  far  more  grandly  than  ordinary  provincial 
organs  for  the  promoting  or  seconding  of  public  opinion, 
that  are  as  little  to  be  compared  witlv  the  mighty  metro- 
politan a3  are  the  fife  and  bugle  boys  practising  on  their 

8  • 


114 

instruments  round  melancholy  outskirts  of  garrison  towns 
with  the  regimental  marching  full  band  under  the  presi- 
dency of  its  drum- major.  No  signature  to  the  article  was 
needed  for  Bevisham  to  know  who  had  returned  to  the 
town  to  pen  it.  Those  long-stretching  sentences,  compar- 
able to  the  very  ship  Leviathan,  spanning  two  Atlantic  bil- 
lows, appertained  to  none  but  the  renowned  Mr.  Timothy 
Turbot,  of  the.  Corn  Law  campaigns,  Keform  agitations, 
and  all  manifestly  popular  movements  requiring  the  heaven- 
endowed  man  of  speech,  an  interpreter  of  multitudes,  and 
a  prompter.  Like  most  men  who  have  little  to  say,  he 
was  an  orator  in  print,  but  that  was  a  poor  medium  for 
him  —  his  body  without  his  fire.  Mr.  Timothy's  place 
was  the  platform.  A  wise  discernment,  or  else  a  lucky 
accident  (for  he  came  hurriedly  from  the  soil  of  his  native 
isle,  needing  occupation),  set  him  on  that  side  in  politics 
which  happened  to  be  making  an  established  current  and 
strong  headway.  Oratory  will  not  work  against  the 
stream,  or  on  languid  tides.  Driblets  of  movements  that 
allowed  the  world  to  doubt  whether  they  were  so  much 
movements  as  illusions  of  the  optics,  did  not  suit  his 
genius.  Thus  he  was  a  Liberal,  no  Kadical,  fountain. 
Liberalism  had  the  attraction  for  the  orator  of  being  the 
active  force  in  politics,  between  two  passive  opposing 
bodies,  the  aspect  of  either  of  which  it  can  assume  for  a 
menace  to  the  other,  Toryish  as  against  Eadicals;  a  trifle 
red  in  the  eyes  of  the  Tory.  It  can  seem  to  lean  back  on 
the  Past;  it  can  seem  to  be  amorous  of  the  Future.  It  is 
actually  the  thing  of  the  Present  and  its  urgencies,  there- 
fore popular,  pouring  forth  the  pure  waters  of  moderation, 
strong  in  their  copiousness.  Delicious  and  rapturous 
effects  are  to  be  produced  in  the  flood  of  a  Liberal  oration 
by  a  chance  infusion  of  the  fierier  spirit,  a  flavour  of 
Radicalism.  That  is  the  thing  to  set  an  audience  bound- 
ing and  quirking.  Whereas  if  you  commence  by  tilting  a 
Triton  pitcher  full  of  the  neat  liquor  upon  them,  you  have 
to  resort  to  the  natural  element  for  the  orator's  art  of 
variation,  you  are  diluted  —  and  that 's  bathos,  to  quote 
Mr.  Timothy.  It  was  a  fine  piece  of  discernment  in  him. 
Let  Liberalism  be  your  feast,  Radicalism  your  spice.  And 
now  and  then,  off  and  on,  for  a  change,  for  diversion,  for 


THE  LEADING  ARTICLE  115 

a  new  emotion,  just  for  half  an  hour  or  so  —  now  and  then 
the  Sunday  coat  of  Toryism  will  give  you  an  air.  You 
have  only  to  complain  of  the  fit,  to  release  your  shoulders 
in  a  trice.  Mr.  Timothy  felt  for  his  art  as  poets  do  for 
theirs,  and  considered  what  was  best  adapted  to  speaking, 
purely  to  speaking.  Upon  no  creature  did  he  look  with 
such  contempt  as  upon  Dr.  Shrapnel,  whose  loose  disjunct 
audiences  he  was  conscious  he  could,  giving  the  doctor  any 
start  he  liked,  whirl  away  from  him  and  have  compact, 
enchained,  at  his  first  flourish ;  yea,  though  they  were  com- 
posed of  "the  poor  man,"  with  a  stomach  for  the  politi- 
cal distillery  fit  to  drain  relishingly  every  private  bogside 
or  mountain-side  tap  in  old  Ireland  in  its  best  days  —  the 
illicit,  you  understand. 

Further,  to  quote  Mr.  Timothy's  points  of  view,  the 
Radical  orator  has  but  two  notes,  and  one  is  the  drawling 
pathetic,  and  the  other  is  the  ultra-furious ;  and  the  effect 
of  the  former  we  liken  to  the  English  workingman's  wife's 
hob-set  queasy  brew  of  well-meant  villany,  that  she  calls 
by  the  innocent  name  of  tea;  and  the  latter  is  to  be  blown, 
asks  to  be  blown,  and  never  should  be  blown  without  at 
least  seeming  to  be  blown,  with  an  accompaniment  of  a 
house  on  fire.  Sir,  we  must  adapt  ourselves  to  our  times. 
Perhaps  a  spark  or  two  does  lurk  about  our  house,  but 
we  have  vigilant  watchmen  in  plenty,  and  the  house  has 
been  pretty  fairly  insured.  Shrieking  in  it  is  an  annoyance 
to  the  inmates,  nonsensical ;  weeping  is  a  sickly  business. 
The  times  are  against  Radicalism  to  the  full  as  much  as 
great  oratory  is  opposed  to  extremes.  These  drag  the 
orator  too  near  to  the  matter.  So  it  is  that  one  Radical 
speech  is  amazingly  like  another  —  they  all  have  the 
earth-spots.  They  smell,  too;  they  smell  of  brimstone. 
Soaring  is  impossible  among  that  faction;  but  this  they 
can  do,  they  can  furnish  the  Tory  his  opportunity  to  soar. 
When  hear  you  a  thrilling  Tory  speech  that  carries  the 
country  with  it,  save  when  the  incendiary  Radical  has 
shrieked  ?  If  there  was  envy  in  the  soul  of  Timothy,  it 
was  addressed  to  the  fine  occasions  offered  to  the  Tory 
speaker  for  vindicating  our  ancient  principles  and  our 
sacred  homes.  He  admired  the  tone  to  be  assumed  for 
that  purpose :  it  was  a  good  note.     Then  could  the  Tory, 


116  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

delivering  at  the  right  season  the  Shakesperian  ^^  This 
England  .  .  ."  andByronic  —  ^^  The  inviolate  Island  .  .  ." 
shake  the  frame,  as  though  smiting  it  with  the  tail  of  the 
gymnotus  electricus.  Ah,  and  then  could  he  thump  out 
his  Horace,  the  Tory's  mentor  and  his  cordial,  with  other 
great  ancient  comic  and  satiric  poets,  his  old  Port  of  the 
classical  cellarage,  reflecting  veneration  upon  him  who  did 
but  name  them  to  an  audience  of  good  dispositions.  The 
Tory  possessed  also  an  innate  inimitably  easy  style  of 
humour,  that  had  the  long  reach,  the  jolly  lordly  indiffer- 
ence, the  comfortable  masterfulness,  of  the  whip  of  a  four- 
in-hand  driver,  capable  of  flicking  and  stinging,  and  of 
being  ironically  caressing.  Timothy  appreciated  it,  for 
he  had  winced  under  it.  No  professor  of  Liberalism  could 
venture  on  it,  unless  it  were  in  the  remote  district  of  a 
back  parlour,  in  the  society  of  a  cherishing  friend  or  two, 
and  with  a  slice  of  lemon  requiring  to  be  refloated  in  the 
glass. 

But  gifts  of  this  description  were  of  a  minor  order. 
Liberalism  gave  the  heading  cry,  devoid  of  which  parties 
are  dogs  without  a  scent,  orators  mere  pump-handles.  The 
Tory's  cry  was  but  a  whistle  to  his  pack,  the  Eadical 
howled  to  the  moon  like  any  chained  hound.  And  no 
wonder,  for  these  parties  had  no  established  current,  they 
were  as  hard-bound  waters ;  the  Radical  being  dyked  and 
dammed  most  soundly,  the  Tory  resembling  a  placid  lake 
of  the  plains,  fed  by  springs  and  no  confluents.  Tor  such 
good  reasons,  Mr.  Timothy  rejoiced  in  the  happy  circum- 
stances which  had  expelled  him  from  the  shores  of  his 
native  isle  to  find  a  refuge  and  a  vocation  in  Manchester 
at  a  period  when  an  orator  happened  to  be  in  request 
because  dozens  were  wanted.  That  centre  of  convulsions 
and  source  of  streams  possessed  the  statistical  orator,' 
the  reasoning  orator,  and  the  inspired;  with  others  of 
quality;  and  yet  it  had  need  of  an  ever-ready  sponta- 
neous imperturbable  speaker,  whose  bubbling  generaliza- 
tions, and  ability  to  beat  the  drum  humorous  could  swing 
halls  of  meeting  from  the  grasp  of  an  enemy,  and  then 
ascend  on  incalescent  adjectives  to  the  popular  idea  of.  the 
sublime.  He  was  the  artistic  orator  of  Corn  Law  Repeal 
—  the  Manchester  flood,  before  which  time  Whigs  were, 


THE  LEADING  ARTICLE  117 

since  which  they  have  walked  like  spectral  antediluvians, 
or  floated  as  dead  canine  bodies  that  are  sucked  away  on 
the  ebb  of  tides  and  flung  back  on  the  flow,  ignorant 
whether  they  be  progressive  or  retrograde.  Timothy  Tur- 
bot  assisted  in  that  vast  effort.  It  should  have  elevated 
him  beyond  the  editorship  of  a  country  newspaper. 
Why  it  did  not  do  so  his  antagonists  pretended  to  know, 
and  his  friends  would  smile  to  hear.  The  report  was  that 
he  worshipped  the  nymph  Whisky. 

Timothy's  article  had  plucked  Beauchamp  out  of  bed; 
Beauchamp's  card  in  return  did  the  same  for  him. 

"Commander  Beauchamp?  I  am  heartily  glad  to  make 
your  acquaintance,  sir;  I  We  been  absent,  at  work,  on  the 
big  business  we  have  in  common,  I  rejoice  to  say,  and  am 
behind  my  fellow  townsmen  in  this  pleasure :  and  lucky  I 
slept  here  in  my  room  above,  where  1  don't  often  sleep, 
for  the  row  of  the  machinery  —  it 's  like  a  steamer  that 
won't  go,  though  it 's  always  starting  ye,"  Mr.  Timothy 
said  in  a  single  breath ,  upon  entering  the  back  office  of  the 
Gazette,  like  unto  those  accomplished  violinists  who  can 
hold  on  the  bow  to  finger  an  incredible  number  of  notes, 
and  may  be  imaged  as  representing  slow  paternal  Time, 
that  rolls  his  capering  dot-headed  generation  of  mortals 
over  the  wheel,  hundreds  to  the  minute.  "  You  '11  excuse 
my  not  shaving,  sir,  to  come  down  to  your  summons  with- 
out an  extra  touch  to  the  neck-band." 

Beauchamp  beheld  a  middle-sized  round  man,  with  loose 
lips  and  pendent  indigo  jowl,  whose  eyes  twinkled  watery, 
like  pebbles  under  the  shore- wash,  and  whose  neck-band 
needed  an  extra  touch  from  fingers  other  than  his  own. 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  disturbed  you  so  early,"  he  replied. 

"  Not  a  bit.  Commander  Beauchamp,  not  a  bit,  sir.  Early 
or  late,  and  ay  ready  —  with  the  Napiers;  I  '11  wash,  I  '11 
wash." 

"  I  came  to  speak  to  you  of  this  article  of  yours  on  me. 
They  tell  me  in  the  office  that  you  are  the  writer.  Pray 
don't  *  Commander  '  me  so  much.  —  It 's  not  customary, 
and  I  object  to  it." 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  Timothy  acquiesced. 

"And  for  the  future,  Mr.  Turbot,  please  to  be  good 
enough  not  to  allude  in  print  to  any  of  my  performances 


118 

here  and  there.  Your  intentions  are  complimentary,  but 
it  happens  that  I  don't  like  a  public  patting  on  the  back." 

"No,  and  that 's  true,"  said  Timothy. 

His  appreciative  and  sympathetic  agreement  with  these 
sharp  strictures  on  the  article  brought  Beau  champ  to  a 
stop. 

Timothy  waited  for. him;  then,  smoothing  his  prickly 
cheek,  remarked :" If  Vd  guessed  your  errand,  Commander 
Beauchamp,  I  'd  have  called  in  the  barber  before  I  came 
down,  just  to  make  myself  decent  for  a  first  introduction." 

Beauchamp  was  not  insensible  to  the  slyness  of  the  poke 
at  him.  "You  see,  I  come  to  the  borough  unknown  to  it, 
and  as  quietly  as  possible,  and  I  want  to  be  taken  as  a 
politician,"  he  continued,  for  the  sake  of  showing  that 
he  had  sufficient  to  say  to  account  for  his  hasty  and  peremp- 
tory summons  of  the  writer  of  that  article  to  his  presence. 
"It 's  excessively  disagreeable  to  have  one's  family  lugged 
into  notice  in  a  newspaper  —  especially  if  they  are  of 
different  politics.     I  feel  it." 

"All  would,  sir,"  said  Timothy. 

"  Then  why  the  deuce  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

Timothy  drew  a  lading  of  air  into  his  lungs.  "  Politics, 
Commander  Beauchamp,  involves  the  doing  of  lots  of 
disagreeable  things  to  ourselves  and  our  relations ;  it 's 
positive.  I  'm  a  soldier  of  the  Great  Campaign:  and  who 
knows  it  better  than  I,  sir?  It 's  climbing  the  greasy  pole 
for  the  leg  o'  mutton,  that  makes  the  mother's  heart  ache 
for  the  jacket  and  the  nether  garments  she  mended  neatly, 
if  she  did  n't  make  them.  Mutton  or  no  mutton,  there  's 
grease  for  certain.  Since  it 's  sure  we  can't  be  discon- 
nected from  the  family,  the  trick  is  to  turn  the  misfortune 
to  a  profit;  and  allow  me  the  observation,  that  an  old 
family,  sir,  and  a  high  and  titled  family,  is  not  to  be 
despised  for  a  background  of  a  portrait  in  naval  uniform , 
with  medal  and  clasps,  and  some  s^iall  smoke  of  powder 
clearing  off  over  there :  —  that 's  if  we  're  to  act  sagaciously 
in  introducing  an  unknown  candidate  to  a  borough  that  has 
a  sneaking  liking  for  the  kind  of  person,  more  honour  to 
it.  I  'm  a  political  veteran,  sir;  I  speak  from  experience. 
We  must  employ  our  weapons,  every  one  of  them ,  and  all 
off  the  grindstone." 


THE  LEADING  ARTICLE  119 

"Very  well,"  said  Beauchamp.  "Now  understand;  you 
are  not  in  future  to  employ  the  weapons,  as  you  call  them, 
that  I  have  objected  to." 

Timothy  gaped  slightly. 

"Whatever  you  will,  but  no  puffery,"  Beauchamp  added. 
"  Can  I  by  any  means  arrest  —  purchase  —  is  it  possible , 
tell  me,  to  lay  an  embargo  —  stop  to-day's  issue  of  the 
Gazette?'' 

"No  more  than  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog,"  Timothy  replied, 
before  he  had  considered  upon  the  monstrous  nature  of  the 
proposal. 

Beauchamp  humphed  and  tossed  his  head.  The  simile 
of  the  dog  struck  him  with  intense  effect. 

"There  'd  be  a  second  edition,"  said  Timothy,  "and  you 
might  buy  up  that.  But  there  '11  be  a  third,  and  you  may 
buy  up  that;  but  there  '11  be  a  fourth  and  a  fifth,  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum,  with  the  advertisement  of  the  sale  of  the 
foregoing  creating  a  demand  like  a  raging  thirst  in  a  ship- 
wreck, in  Bligh's  boat,  in  the  tropics.  I  'm  afraid  Com  — 
Captain  Beauchamp,  sir,  there  's  no  stopping  the  Press 
while  the  people  have  an  appetite  for  it  —  and  a  Company  's 
at  the  back  of  it." 

"  Pooh,  don't  talk  to  me  in  that  way ;  all  I  complain  of 
is  the  figure  you  have  made  of  me,"  said  Beauchamp, 
fetching  him  smartly  out  of  his  nonsense ;  "  and  all  I  ask 
of  you  is  not  to  be  at  it  again.  Who  would  suppose  from 
reading  an  article  like  that,  that  I  am  a  candidate  with  a 
single  political  idea!" 

"An  article  like  that,"  said  Timothy,  winking,  and  a 
little  surer  of  his  man  now  that  he  suggested  his  posses- 
sion of  ideas,  "an  article  like  that  is  the  best  cloak  you  can 
put  on  a  candidate  with  too  many  of  'em,  Captain  Beau- 
champ. I  '11  tell  you,  sir;  I  came,  I  heard  of  your  candi- 
dature, I  had  your  sketch,  the  pattern  of  ye,  before  me, 
and  I  was  told  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  fathered  you  politically. 
There  was  my  brief!  I  had  to  persuade  our  constituents 
that  you,  Commander  Beauchamp  of  the  Koyal  Navy,  and 
the  great  family  of  the  Earls  of  Romfrey,  one  of  the  heroes 
of  the  war,  and  the  recipient  of  a  Royal  Humane  Society's 
medal  for  saving  life  in  Bevisham  waters,  were  something 
more  than  the  Radical  doctor's  political  son;  and,  sir,  it 


120  BEAUCHAMP*S  CAREER 

was  to  this  end,  aim,  and  object,  that  I  wrote  the  article  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  avow  as  mine,  and  I  do  so,  sir,  because 
of  the  solitary  merit  it  has  of  serving  your  political  inter- 
ests as  the  Liberal  candidate  for  Bevisham  by  counteracting 
the  unpopularity  of  Dr.  ShrapnePs  name,  on  the  one  part, 
and  of  reviving  the  credit  due  to  your  valour  and  high 
bearing  on  the  field  of  battle  in  defence  of  your  country, 
on  the  other,  so  that  Bevisham  may  apprehend,  in  spite  of 
party  distinctions,  that  it  has  the  option,  and  had  better 
seize  upon  the  honour,  of  making  a  M.P.  of  a  hero." 

Beauchamp  interposed  hastily :  "  Thank  you,  thank  you 
for  the  best  of  intentions.  But  let  me  tell  you  I  am  pre- 
pared to  stand  or  fall  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  be  hanged 
to  all  that  humbug." 

Timothy  rubbed  his  hands  with  an  abstracted  air  of 
washing.  "Well,  commander,  well,  sir,  they  say  a  can- 
didate 's  to  be  humoured  in  his  infancy,  for  he  has  to  do 
all  the  humouring  before  he  's  many  weeks  old  at  it;  only 
there  's  the  fact!  —  he  soon  finds  out  he  has  to  pay  for  his 
first  fling,  like  the  son  of  a  family  sowing  his  oats  to  reap 
his  Jews.  Credit  me,  sir,  I  thought  it  prudent  to  counter- 
act a  bit  of  an  apothecary's  shop  odour  in  the  junior  Lib- 
eral candidate's  address.  I  found  the  town  sniffing,  they 
scented  Shrapnel  in  the  composition." 

"Every  line  of  it  was  mine,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"Of  course  it  was,  and  the  address  was  admirably 
worded,  sir,  I  make  bold  to  say  it  to  your  face;  but  most 
indubitably  it  threatened  powerful  drugs  for  weak  stom- 
achs, and  it  blew  cold  on  votes,  which  are  sensitive  plants 
like  nothing  else  in  botany." 

"If  they  are  only  to  be  got  by  abandoning  principles 
and  by  anything  but  honesty  in  stating  them,  they  may 
go,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"I  repeat,  my  dear  sir,  I  repeat,  the  infant  candidate 
delights  in  his  honesty,  like  the  babe  in  its  nakedness,  the 
beautiful  virgin  in  her  innocence.  So  he  does;  but  he 
discovers  it 's  time  for  him  to  wear  clothes  in  a  contested 
election.  And  what 's  that  but  to  preserve  the  outlines 
pretty  correctly,  whilst  he  does  n't  shock  and  horrify  the 
optics  ?  A  dash  of  conventionalism  makes  the  whole 
Civilized  world  kin,  ye  know.     That 's  the  truth.     You 


CECILIA  HALKETT  121 

must  appear  to  be  one  of  them,  for  them  to  choose  you. 
After  all,  there's  no  harm  in  a  dyer's  hand;  and,  sir, 
a  candidate  looking  at  his  own,  when  he  has  won  the 
Election  ..." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Beauchamp,  swinging  on  his  heel,  "and 
now  I  '11  take  my  leave  of  you,  and  I  apologize  for  bring- 
ing you  down  here  so  early.  Please  attend  to  what  I  have 
said;  it's  peremptory.  You  will  give  me  great  pleasure 
by  dining  with  me  to-night,  at  the  hotel  opposite.  Will 
you  ?  I  don't  know  what  kind  of  wine  I  shall  be  able  to 
offer  you.  Perhaps  you  know  the  cellar,  and  may  help  me 
in  that." 

Timothy  grasped  his  hand.  "  With  pleasure.  Commander 
Beauchamp.  They  have  a  bucellas  over  there  that 's  old, 
and  a  tolerable  claret,  and  a  Port  to  be  inquired  for  under 
the  breath,  in  a  mysteriously  intimate  tone  of  voice,  as 
one  says,  *  I  know  of  your  treasure,  and  the  corner  under 
ground  where  it  lies.'  Avoid  the  champagne:  'tis  the 
banqueting  wine.  Ditto  the  sherry.  One  can  drink 
them,  one  can  drink  them." 

"At  a  quarter  to  eight  this  evening,  then,"  said  Nevil. 

"I  '11  be  there  at  the  stroke  of  the  clock,  sure  as  the  date 
of  a  bill,"  said  Timothy. 

And  it 's  early  to  guess  whether  you  '11  catch  Bevisham 
or  you  won't,  he  reflected,  as  he  gazed  at  the  young  gen- 
tleman crossing  the  road;  but  female  Bevisham 's  with  you, 
if  that  counts  for  much.  Timothy  confessed,  that  without 
the  employment  of  any  weapon  save  arrogance  and  a  look 
of  candour,  the  commander  had  gone  some  way  toward 
catching  the  feminine  side  of  himself. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CECILIA   HALKETT 


Beauchamp  walked  down  to  the  pier,  where  he  took  a 
boat  for  H. M.S.  Isis,  to  see  Jack  Wilmore,  whom  he  had 
not  met  since  his  return  from  his  last  cruise,  and  first  he 
tried  the  efficacy  of  a  dive  in  salt  water,  as  a  specific  for 


122  BEAtJCHAMP's  CAREER 

irritation.  It  gave  the  edge  to  a  fine  appetite  that  he  con- 
tinued to  satisfy  while  Wilmore  talked  of  those  famous 
dogs  to  which  the  navy  has  ever  been  going. 

"We  want  another  panic,  Beauchamp,"  said  Lieutenant 
Wilmore.  "  No  one  knows  better  than  you  what  a  naval 
man  has  to  complain  of,  so  I  hope  you  '11  get  your  Election, 
if  only  that  we  may  reckon  on  a  good  look-out  for  the  in- 
terests of  the  service.  A  regular  Board  with  a  permanent 
Lord  High  Admiral,  and  a  regular  vote  of  money  to  keep  it 
up  to  the  mark.  Stick  to  that.  Hardist  has  a  vote  in 
Bevisham.  I  think  I  can  get  one  or  two  more.  Why 
are  n't  you  a  Tory  ?  No  Whigs  nor  Liberals  look  after  us 
half  so  well  as  the  Tories.  It 's  enough  to  break  a  man's 
heart  to  see  the  troops  of  dockyard  workmen  marching  out 
as  soon  as  ever  a  Liberal  Government  marches  in.  Then 
it 's  one  of  our  infernal  panics  again,  and  patch  here,  patch 
there;  every  inch  of  it  make-believe  !  I'll  prove  to  you 
from  examples  that  the  humbug  of  Government  causes 
exactly  the  same  humbugging  workmanship.  It  seems 
as  if  it  were  a  game  of  *  rascals  all. '  Let  them  sink  us  ! 
but,  by  heaven  !  one  can't  help  feeling  for  the  country. 
And  I  do  say  it 's  the  doing  of  those  Liberals.  Skilled 
workmen,  mind  you,  not  to  be  netted  again  so  easily. 
America  reaps  the  benefit  of  our  folly.  .  .  .  That  was  a 
lucky  run  of  yours  up  the  Niger ;  the  admiral  was  friendly, 
but  you  deserved  your  luck.  For  God's  sake,  don't  forget 
the  state  of  our  service  when  you  're  one  of  our  cherubs  up 
aloft,  Beauchamp.  This  I  '11  say,  I  've  never  heard  a  man 
talk  about  it  as  you  used  to  in  old  midshipmite  days, 
whole  watches  through  —  don't  you  remember?  on  the 
North  American  station,  and  in  the  Black  Sea,  and  the 
Mediterranean.  And  that  girl  at  Malta  !  I  wonder  what 
has  become  of  her  ?  What  a  beauty  she  was  !  I  dare  say 
she  was  n't  so  fine  a  girl  as  the  Armenian  you  unearthed 
on  the  Bosphorus,  but  she  had  something  about  her  a 
fellow  can't  forget.  That  was  a  lovely  creature  coming 
down  the  hills  over  Granada  on  her  mule.  Ay,  we  've  seen 
handsome  women,  Nevil  Beauchamp.  But  you  always 
were  lucky,  invariably,  and  I  should  bet  on  you  for  the 
Election." 

"Canvass  for  me,  Jack,"  said  Beauchamp,  smiling  at 


CECILIA  HALKETT  123 

his  friend's  unconscious  double-skeining  of  subjects.  "If 
I  turn  out  as  good  a  politician  as  you  are  a  seaman,  I  shall 
do.  Pounce  on  Hardist's  vote  without  losing  a  day.  I 
would  go  to  him,  but  I  've  missed  the  Halketts  twice. 
They  're  on  the  Otley  river,  at  a  place  called  Mount  Laurels, 
and  I  particularly  want  to  see  the  colonel.  Can  you  give 
me  a  boat  there,  and  come  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Wilmore.  "I've  danced  there  with 
the  lady,  the  handsomest  girl,  English  style,  of  her  time. 
And  come,  come,  our  English  style  's  the  best.  It  wears 
best,  it  looks  best.  Foreign  women  .  .  .  they  're  capital 
to  flirt  with.  But  a  girl  like  Cecilia  Halkett  —  one  can't 
call  her  a  girl,  and  it  won't  do  to  say  Goddess,  and  queen 
and  charmer  are  out  of  the  question,  though  she  's  both, 
and  angel  into  the  bargain;  but,  by  George!  what  a 
woman  to  call  wife,  you  say;  and  a  man  attached  to  a 
woman  like  that  never  can  let  himself  look  small.  No 
such  luck  for  me ;  only  I  ^wear  if  I  stood  between  a  good 
and  a  bad  action,  the  thought  of  that  girl  would  keep  me 
straight,  and  I  've  only  danced  with  her  once  !  " 

Not  long  after  sketching  this  rough  presentation  of  the 
lady,  with  a  masculine  hand,  Wilmore  was  able  to  point 
to  her  in  person  on  the  deck  of  her  father's  yacht,  the 
Esperanza,  standing  out  of  Otley  river.  There  was  a 
gallant  splendour  in  the  vessel  that  threw  a  touch  of  glory 
on  its  mistress  in  the  minds  of  the  two  young  naval  offi- 
cers, as  they  pulled  for  her  in  the  ship's  gig. 

Wilmore  sang  out, "Give  way,  men  !  " 

The  sailors  bent  to  their  oars,  and  presently  the 
schooner's  head  was  put  to  the  wind. 

"She  sees  we're  giving  chase,"  Wilmore  said.  "She 
can't  be  expecting  me,  so  it  must  be  you.  No,  the  colonel 
does  n't  race  her.  They  've  only  been  back  from  Italy  six 
months :  I  mean  the  schooner.  I  remember  she  talked  of 
you  when  I  had  her  for  a  partner.  Yes,  now  I  mean  Miss 
Halkett.  Blest  if  I  think  she  talked  of  anything  else. 
She  sees  us.  I  '11  tell  you  what  she  likes :  she  likes 
yachting,  she  likes  Italy,  she  likes  painting,  likes  things 
old  English,  awfully  fond  of  heroes.  I  told  her  a  tale  of 
one  of  our  men  saving  life.  *  Oh ! '  said  she,  *  did  n't  your 
friend  Nevil  Beauchamp  save  a  man  from  drowning,  off 


124  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

the  guardship,  in  exactly  the  same  place  ? '  And  next  day 
she  sent  me  a  cheque  for  three  pounds  for  the  fellow. 
Steady,  men  !     I  keep  her  letter." 

The  boat  went  smoothly  alongside  the  schooner.  Miss 
Halkett  had  come  to  the  side.  The  oars  swung  fore  and 
aft,  and  Beauchamp  sprang  on  deck. 

Wilmore  had  to  decline  Miss  Halkett's  invitation  to  him 
as  well  as  his  friend,  and  returned  in  his  boat.  He  left 
the  pair  with  a  ruffling  breeze,  and  a  sky  all  sail,  prepared, 
it  seemed  to  him,  to  enjoy  the  most  delicious  you-and-I 
on  salt  water  that  a  sailor  could  dream  of;  and  placidly 
envying,  devoid  of  jealousy,  there  was  just  enough  of  fancy 
quickened  in  Lieutenant  Wilmore  to  give  him  pictures  of 
them  without  disturbance  of  his  feelings  —  one  of  the  con- 
ditions of  the  singular  visitation  we  call  happiness,  if  he 
could  have  known  it. 

For  a  time  his  visionary  eye  followed  them  pretty  cor- 
rectly. So  long  since  they  had  parted  last!  such  changes 
in  the  interval!  and  great  animation  in  Beauchamp's 
gaze,  and  a  blush  on  Miss  Halkett's  cheeks. 

She  said  once,  "Captain  Beauchamp."  He  retorted  with 
a  solemn  formality.  They  smiled,  and  immediately  took 
footing  on  their  previous  intimacy. 

"How  good  it  was  of  you  to  come  twice  to  Mount 
Laurels,"  said  she.  "I  have  not  missed  you  to-day.  No 
address  was  on  your  card.  Where  are  you  staying  in  the 
neighbourhood  ?    At  Mr.  LespePs  ?  " 

"I  'm  staying  at  a  Bevisham  hotel,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"You  have  not  been  to  Steynham  yet?  Papa  comes 
home  from  Steynham  to-night." 

"  Does  he  ?  Well,  the  Ariadne  is  only  just  paid  off,  and 
I  can't  well  go  to  Steynham  yet.  I  —  "  Beauchamp  was 
astonished  at  the  hesitation  he  found  in  himself  to  name 
it:  "I  have  business  in  Bevisham." 

"  Naval  business  ?  "  she  remarked. 

"No,"  said  he. 

The  sensitive  prescience  we  have  of  a  critical  distaste 
of  our  proceedings  is,  the  world  is  aware,  keener  than  our 
intuition  of  contrary  opinions ;  and  for  the  sake  of  preserv- 
ing the  sweet  outward  forms  of  friendliness,  Beauchamp 
was  anxious  not  to  speak   of  the  business  in   Bevisham 


CECILIA  HALKETT  125 

just  then,  but  she  looked  and  he  had  hesitated,  so  he  said 
flatly,  "I  am  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  borough." 

"Indeed!" 

"And  I  want  the  colonel  to  give  me  his  vote." 

The  young  lady  breathed  a  melodious  "  Oh ! "  not  con- 
demnatory or  reproachful  —  a  sound  to  fill  a  pause.  But 
she  was  beginning  to  reflect. 

"  Italy  and  our  English  Channel  are  my  two  Poles,"  she 
said.  "I  am  constantly  swaying  between  them.  I  have 
told  papa  we  will  not  lay  up  the  yacht  while  the  weather 
holds  fair.  Except  for  the  absence  of  deep  colour  and 
bright  colour,  what  can  be  more  beautiful  than  these  green 
waves  and  that  dark  forest's  edge,  and  the  garden  of  an 
island !  The  yachting-water  here  is  an  unrivalled  lake ;  and 
if  I  miss  colour,  which  I  love,  I  remind  myself  that  we 
have  temperate  air  here,  not  a  sun  that  sends  you  under 
cover.  We  can  have  our  fruits  too,  you  see."  One  of  the 
yachtsmen  was  handing  her  a  basket  of  hot-house  grapes, 
reclining  beside  crisp  home-made  loaflets.  "This  is  my 
luncheon.     Will  you  share  it,  Nevil  ?  " 

His  Christian  name  was  pleasant  to  hear  from  her  lips. 
She  held  out  a  bunch  to  him. 

"Grapes  take  one  back  to  the  South,"  said  he.  "How 
do  you  bear  compliments  ?  You  have  been  in  Italy  some 
years,  and  it  must  be  the  South  that  has  worked  the 
miracle." 

"  In  my  growth  ?  "  said  Cecilia,  smiling.  " I  have  grown 
out  of  my  Circassian  dress,  Nevil." 

"  You  received  it,  then  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  you  a  letter  of  thanks  —  and  abuse,  for  your  not 
coming  to  Steynham.     You  may  recognize  these  pearls." 

The  pearls  were  round  her  right  wrist.  He  looked  at 
the  blue  veins. 

"They  're  not  pearls  of  price,"  he  said. 

"  I  do  not  wear  them  to  fascinate  the  jewellers, "  rejoined 
Miss  Halkett.  "So  you  are  a  candidate  at  an  Election. 
You  still  have  a  tinge  of  Africa,  do  you  know  ?  But  you 
have  not  abandoned  the  navy  ?  " 

"Not  altogether." 

"Oh!  no,  no:  I  hope  not.  I  have  heard  of  you,  .  .  . 
but  who  has  not?    We  cannot  spare  officers  like  you. 


126 

Papa  was  delighted  to  hear  of  your  promotion.     Parlia- 
ment ! " 

The  exclamation  was  contemptuous. 

"It 's  the  highest  we  can  aim  at,"  Beauchamp  observed 
meekly. 

"  I  think  I  recollect  you  used  to  talk  politics  when  you 
were  a  midshipman,"  she  said.  "You  headed  the  aristoc- 
racy, did  you  not  ?  " 

"The  aristocracy  wants  a  head,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Parliament,  in  my  opinion,  is  the  best  of  occupations 
for  idle  men,"  said  she. 

"It  shows  that  it  is  a  little  too  full  of  them." 

"Surely  the  country  can  go  on  very  well  without  so 
much  speech-making?" 

"  It  can  go  on  very  well  for  the  rich." 

Miss  Halkett  tapped  with  her  foot. 

"I  should  expect  a  Radical  to  talk  in  that  way,  Nevil." 

"  Take  me  for  one." 

"I  would  not  even  imagine  it." 

"S4y  Liberal,  then." 

"  Are  you  not  "  —  her  eyes  opened  on  him  largely,  and 
narrowed  from  surprise  to  reproach,  and  then  to  pain  — 
"  are  you  not  one  of  us  ?  Have  you  gone  over  to  the  enemy, 
Nevil  ?  " 

"I  have  taken  my  side,  Cecilia;  but  we,  on  our  side, 
don't  talk  of  an  enemy." 

"Most  unfortunate!  We  are  Tories,  you  know,  Nevil. 
Papa  is  a  thorough  Tory.  He  cannot  vote  for  you.  In- 
deed I  have  heard  him  say  he  is  anxious  to  defeat  the ' 
plots  of  an  old  Bepublican  in  Bevisham  —  some  doctor 
there;  and  I  believe  he  went  to  London  to  look  out  for  a 
second  Tory  candidate  to  oppose  to  the  Liberals.  Our 
present  Member  is  quite  safe,  of  course.  Nevil,  this 
makes  me  unhappy.  Do  you  not  feel  that  it  is  playing 
traitor  to  one's  class  to  join  those  men?" 

Such  was  the  Tory  way  of  thinking,  Nevil  Beauchamp 
said:  the  Tories  upheld  their  Toryism  in  the  place  of 
patriotism. 

"But  do  we  not  owe  the  grandeur  of  the  country  to  the. 
Tories  ?  "  she  said,  with  a  lovely  air  of  conviction.  "  Papa 
has  told  me  how  false  the  Whigs  played  the  Duke  in  the 


CECILIA   HALKETT  127 

Peninsula:  ruining  his  supplies,  writing  him  down,  de- 
claring, all  the  time  he  was  fighting  his  first  hard  battles, 
that  his  cause  was  hopeless  —  that  resistance  to  Napoleon 
was  impossible.  The  Duke  never,  never  had  loyal  support 
but  from  the  Tory  Government.  The  Whigs,  papa  says, 
absolutely  preached  submission  to  Napoleon !  The  Whigs, 
I  hear,  were  the  Liberals  of  those  days.  The  two  Pitts 
were  Tories.  The  greatness  of  England  has  been  built  up 
by  the  Tories.  I  do  and  will  defend  them:  it  is  the 
fashion  to  decry  them  now.  They  have  the  honour  and 
safety  of  the  country  at  heart.  They  do  not  play  disgrace- 
fully at  reductions  of  taxes,  as  the  Liberals  do.  They  have 
given  us  all  our  heroes.  Nonfu  mai  gloria  senza  invidia. 
They  have  done  service  enough  to  despise  the  envious  mob. 
They  never  condescend  to  supplicate  brute  force  for  aid  to 
crush  their  opponents.  You  feel  in  all  they  do  that  the 
instincts  of  gentlemen  are  active." 

Beauchamp  bowed. 

"^'Do  I  speak  too  warmly?"  she  asked.  "Papa  and  I 
have  talked  over  it  often,  and  especially  of  late.  You 
will  find  him  your  delighted  host  and  your  inveterate 
•opponent." 

"And  you?" 

'**  Just  the  same.  You  will  have  to  pardon  me;  I  am  a 
terrible  foe." 

"I  declare  to  you,  Cecilia,  I  would  prefer  having  you 
against  me  to  having  you  indifferent." 

"  I  wish  I  had  not  to  think  it  right  that  you  should  be 
beaten.  And  now  — ■  can  you  throw  off  political  Nevil,  and 
be  sailor  Nevil  ?  I  distinguish  between  my  old  friend, 
and  my  .  .   .  our  ..." 

"Dreadful  antagonist  ? " 

"Not  so  dreadful,  except  in  the  shock  he  gives  us  to  find 
him  in  the  opposite  ranks.  'I  am  grieved.  But  we  will 
finish  our  sail  in  peace.  I  detest  controversy.  I  suppose, 
Nevil,  you  would  have  no  such  things  as  yachts?  they  are 
the  enjoyments  of  the  rich  !  " 

He  reminded  her  that  she  wished  to  finish  her  sail  in 
peace;  and  he  had  to  remind  her  of  it  more  than  once. 
Her  scattered  resources  for  argumentation  sprang  up  from 
various  suggestions,  such  as  the  flight  of  yachts,  mention 


128  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

of  the  shooting  season,  sight  of  a  royal  palace ;  and  adopted 
a  continually  heightened  satirical  form,  oddly  intermixed 
with  an  undisguised  affectionate  friendliness.  Apparently 
she  thought  it  possible  to  worry  him  out  of  his  adhesion  to 
the  wrong  side  in  politics.  She  certainly  had  no  concep- 
tion of  the  nature  of  his  political  views,  for  one  or  two 
extreme  propositions  flung  to  him  in  jest,  he  swallowed 
with  every  sign  of  a  perfect  facility,  as  if  the  Eadical  had 
come  to  regard  stupendous  questions  as  morsels  barely 
sufficient  for  his  daily  sustenance.  Cecilia  reflected  that 
he  must  be  playing,  and  as  it  was  not  a  subject  for  play 
she  tacitly  reproved  him  by  letting  him  be  the  last  to 
speak  of  it.  He  may  not  have  been  susceptible  to  the  deli- 
cate chastisement,  probably  was  not,  for  when  he  ceased 
it  was  to  look  on  the  beauty  of  her  lowered  eyelids,  rather 
with  an  idea  that  the  weight  of  his  argument  lay  on  them. 
It  breathed  from  him;  both  in  the  department  of  logic 
and  of  feeling,  in  his  plea  for  the  poor  man  and  his  expo- 
sition of  the  poor  man's  rightful  claims,  he  evidently 
imagined  that  he  had  spoken  overwhelmingly ;  and  to  un- 
deceive him  in  this  respect,  for  his  own  good,  Cecilia 
calmly  awaited  the  occasion  when  she  might  show  the 
vanity  of  arguments  in  their  effort  to  overcome  convic- 
tions. He  stood  up  to  take  his  leave  of  her,  on  their 
return  to  the  mouth  of  the  Otley  river,  unexpectedly,  so 
that  the  occasion  did  not  arrive;  but  on  his  mentioning 
an  engagement  he  had  to  give  a  dinner  to  a  journalist  and 
a  tradesman  of  the  town  of  Bevisham,  by  way  of  excuse 
for  not  complying  with  her  gentle  entreaty  that  he  would 
go  to  Mount  Laurels  and  wait  to  see  the  colonel  that  even- 
ing, "  Oh !  then  your  choice  must  be  made  irrevocably,  I 
am  sure,"  Miss  Halkett  said,  relying  upon  intonation  and 
manner  to  convey  a  great  deal  more,  and  not  without  a 
minor  touch  of  resentment  for  his  having  dragged  her  into 
the  discussion  of  politics,  which  she  considered  as  a  slime 
wherein  men  hustled  and  tussled,  no  doubt  worthily 
enough,  and  as  became  them;  not  however  to  impose  the 
strife  upon  the  elect  ladies  of  earth.  'What  gentleman 
ever  did  talk  to  a  young  lady  upon  the  dreary  topic' 
seriously?  Least  of  all  should  Nevil  Beauchamp  have 
done  it.     That  object  of  her  high  imagination  belonged  to 


CECILIA  HALKETT  129 

the  exquisite  sphere  of  the  feminine  vision  of  the  pure 
poetic,  and  she  was  vexed  by  the  discord  he  threw  be- 
tween her  long-cherished  dream  and  her  unanticipated 
realization  of  him :  if  indeed  it  was  he  presenting  himself 
to  her  in  his  own  character,  and  not  trifling,  or  not  passing 
through  a  phase  of  young  man's  madness. 

Possibly  he  might  be  the  victim  of  the  latter  and  more 
pardonable  state,  and  so  thinking  she  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Good-bye,  Nevil.  I  may  tell  papa  to  expect  you  to- 
morrow ?  " 

"Do,  and  tell  him  to  prepare -for  a  field-day." 

She  smiled.  "  A  sham  fight  that  will  not  win  you  a  vote ! 
I  hope  you  will  find  your  guests  this  evening  agreeable 
companion§." 

Beauchamp  half-shrugged  involuntarily.  He  obliterated 
the  piece  of  treason  toward  them  by  saying  that  he  hoped 
so;  as  though  the  meeting  them,  instead  of  slipping  on  to 
Mount  Laurels  with  her,  were  an  enjoyable  prospect. 

He  was  dropped  by  the  Esperanza^s  boat  near  Otley 
ferry,  to  walk  along  the  beach  to  Bevisham,  and  he  kept 
eye  on  the  elegant  vessel  as  she  glided  swan-like  to  her 
moorings  off  Mount  Laurels  park  through  dusky  merchant 
craft,  colliers,  and  trawlers,  loosely  shaking  her  towering 
snow-white  sails,  unchallenged  in  her  scornful  supremacy; 
an  image  of  a  refinement  of  beauty,  and  of  a  beautiful  ser- 
vicelessness. 

As  the  yacht,  so  the  mistress :  things  of  wealth,  owing 
their  graces  to  wealth,  devoting  them  to  wealth  —  splendid 
achievements  of  art  both !  and  dedicated  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  superior  senses. 

Say  that  they  were  precious  examples  of  an  accom- 
plished civilization ;  and  perhaps  they  did  offer  a  visible 
ideal  of  grace  for  the  rough  world  to  aim  at.  They  might 
in  the  abstract  address  a  bit  of  a  monition  to  the  unculti- 
vated, and  encourage  the  soul  to  strive  toward  perfection 
in  beauty :  and  there  is  no  contesting  the  value  of  beauty 
when  the  soul  is  taken  into  account.  But  were  they  not 
in  too  great  a  profusion  in  proportion  to  their  utility? 
That  was  the  question  for  Nevil  Beauchamp.  The  demo- 
cratic spirit  inhabiting  him,  temporarily  or  permanently, 
asked  whether  they  were  not  increasing  ^o  numbers  which 

9  ' 


130  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

were  oppressive  ?  And  further,  whether  it  was  good  for 
the  country,  the  race,  ay,  the  species,  that  they  should  be 
so  distinctly  removed  from  the  thousands  who  fought  the 
grand  and  the  grisly  old  battle  with  nature  for  bread  of 
life.  Those  grimy  sails  of  the  colliers  and  fishing-smacks, 
set  them  in  a  great  sea,  would  have  beauty  for  eyes  and 
soul  beyond  that  of  elegance  and  refinement.  And  do 
but  look  on  them  thoughtfully,  the  poor  are  everlastingly, 
unrelievedly,  in  the  abysses  of  the  great  sea  .  .  . 

One  cannot  pursue  to  conclusions  a  line  of  meditation 
that  is  half -built  on  the  sensations  as  well  as  on  the  mind. 
Did  Beauchamp  at  all  desire  to  have  those  idly  lovely 
adornments  of  riches,  the  Yacht  and  the  Lady,  swept 
away  ?  Oh,  dear  no.  He  admired  them,  he  was  at  home 
with  them.  They  were  much  to  his  taste.  Standing  on  a 
point  of  the  beach  for  a  last  look  at  them  before  he  set 
his  face  to  the  town,  he  prolonged  the  look  in  a  manner  to 
indicate  that  the  place  where  business  called  him  was  not 
in  comparison  at  all  so  pleasing:  and  just  as  little  enjoy- 
able were  his  meditations  opposed  to  predilections.  Beauty 
plucked  the  heart  from  his  breast.  But  he  had  taken  up 
arms;  he  had  drunk  of  the  questioning  cu^,  that  which 
denieth  peace  to  us,  and  which  projects  us  upon  the  mis- 
sionary search  of  the  How,  the  Wherefore,  and  the  Why 
not,  ever  afterward.  He  questioned  his  justification,  and 
yours,  for  gratifying  tastes  in  an  ill-regulated  world  of 
wrong-doing,  suffering,  sin,  and  bounties  unrighteously 
dispensed  —  not  sufficiently  dispersed.  He  said  by-and-by 
to  pleasure,  battle  to-day.  From  his  point  of  observation, 
and  with  the  store  of  ideas  and  images  his  fiery  yet  reflec- 
tive youth  had  gathered,  he  presented  himself  as  it  were 
saddled  to  that  hard-riding  force  known  as  the  logical  im- 
petus, which  spying  its  quarry  over  precipices,  across 
oceans  and  deserts,  and  through  systems  and  webs,  and 
into  shops  and  cabinets  of  costliest  china,  will  come  at  it, 
will  not  be  refused,  let  the  distances  and  the  breakages  be 
what  they  may.  He  went  like  the  meteoric  man  with  the 
mechanical  legs  in  the  song,  too  quick  for  a  cry  of  protesta- 
tion, and  reached  results  amazing  to  his  instincts,  his  tastes, 
and  his  training,  not  less  rapidly  and  naturally  than  tre- 
mendous Ergo  is  shot  forth  from  the  clash  of  a  syllogism. 


BEAUCHAMP  IN  HIS  COLOURS  131 

CHAPTER  XVI 

'     A  PARTIAL    DISPLAY    OF    BEAUCHAMP   IN    HIS   COLOURS 

Beauchamp  presented  himself  at  Mount  Laurels  next 
day,  and  formally  asked  Colonel  Halkett  for  his  vote,  in 
the  presence  of  Cecilia. 

She  took  it  for  a  playful  glance  at  his  new  profession  of 
politician:  he  spoke  half -playfully.  Was  it  possible  to 
speak  in  earnest  ? 

" I  ^m  of  the  opposite  party,"  said  the  colonel;  as  conclu- 
sive a  reply  as  could  be :  but  he  at  once  fell  upon  the  rotten 
navy  of  a  Liberal  Government.  How  could  a  true  sailor 
think  of  joining  those  Liberals !  The  question  referred 
to  the  country,  not  to  a  section  of  it,  Beauchamp  protested 
with  impending  emphasis :  Tories  and  Liberals  were  much 
the  same  in  regard  to  the  caref  of  the  navy.  "  Nevil ! " 
exclaimed  Cecilia.  He  cited  beneficial  Liberal  bills  re- 
cently passed,  which  she  accepted  for  a  concession  of  the 
navy  to  the  Tories,  and  she  smiled.  In  spite  of  her  dis- 
like of  politics,  she  had  only  to  listen  a  few  minutes  to  be 
drawn  into  the  contest :  and  thus  it  is  that  one  hot  politi- 
cian makes  many  among  women  and  men  of  a  people  that 
have  the  genius  of  strife,  or  else  in  this  case  the  young 
lady  did  unconsciously  feel  a  deep  interest  in  refuting  and 
overcoming  Nevil  Beauchamp.  Colonel  Halkett  denied  the 
benefits  of  those  bills.  "Look,"  said  he,  "  at  the  scarecrow 
plight  of  the  army  under  a  Liberal  Government  !  "  This 
laid  him  open  to  the  charge  that  he  was  for  backing  Ad- 
ministrations instead  of  principles. 

"I  do,"  said  the  colonel.  "I  would  rather  have  a  good 
Administration  than  all  your  talk  of  principles :  one  's  a 
fact,  but  principles?  principles?"  He  languished  for  a 
phrase  to  describe  the  hazy  things.  "I  have  mine,  and 
you  have  yours.  It 's  like  a  dispute  between  religions. 
There  's  no  settling  it  except  by  main  force.  That 's  what 
principles  lead  you  to." 

Principles  may  be  hazy,  but  heavy  artillery  is  dispos- 
able in  defence  of  them,  and  Beauchamp  fired  some  rever- 


132  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

berating  guns  for  the  eternal  against  the  transitory ;  — 
with  less  of  the  gentlemanly  fine  taste,  the  light  and  easy 
social  semi-irony,  than  Cecilia  liked  and  would  have  ex- 
pected from  him.  However,  as  to  principles,  no  doubt 
Nevil  was  right,  and  Cecilia  drew  her  father  to  another 
position.  "  Are  not  we  Tories  to  have  principles  as  well 
as  the  Liberals,  Nevil  ? " 

"They  may  have  what  they  call  principles,"  he  ad- 
mitted, intent  on  pursuing  his  advantage  over  the  colonel, 
who  said,  to  shorten  the  controversy:  "It  ^s  a  question  of 
my  vote,  and  my  liking.  I  like  a  Tory  Government,  and 
I  don't  like  the  Liberals.  I  like  gentlemen;  I  don't  like 
a  party  that  attacks  everything,  and  beats  up  the  mob  for 
power,  and  repays  it  with  sops,  and  is  dragging  us  down 
from  all  we  were  proud  of." 

"  But  the  country  is  growing,  the  country  wants  expan- 
sion," said  Beauchamp;  "and  if  your  gentlemen  by  birth 
are  not  up  to  the  mark,  you  must  have  leaders  that  are." 

"Leaders  who  cut  down  expenditure,  to  create  a  panic 
that  doubles  the  outlay !     I  know  them." 

^' A.  panic,  Nevil."  Cecilia  threw  stress  on  the  memo- 
rable word. 

He  would  hear  no  reminder  in  it.  The  internal  condi- 
tion of  the  country  was  now  the  point  for  seriously-minded 
Englishmen. 

"My  dear  boy,  what  have  you  seen  of  the  country?" 
Colonel  Halkett  inquired. 

"Every  time  I  have  landed,  colonel,  I  have  gone  to  the 
mining  and  the  manufacturing  districts,  the  centres  of 
industry;  wherever  there  was  dissatisfaction.  I  have 
attended  meetings,  to  see  and  hear  for  myself.  I  have 
read  the  papers.  ..." 

"The  papers!" 

"Well,  they  're  the  mirror  of  the  country." 
'  "  Does   one  see   everything  in  a  mirror,  Nevil  ? "   said 
Cecilia:   "even  in  the  smoothest?" 

He  retorted  softly,  "  I  should  be  glad  to  see  what  you 
see,"  and  felled  her  with  a  blush. 

For  an  example  of  the  mirror  offered  by  the  Press, 
Colonel  Halkett  touched  on  Mr.  Timothy  Turbot's  article 
in  eulogy  of  the  great  Commander  Beauchamp.     "  Did  you 


BEAUCHA^IP  IN  HIS  COLOURS  133 

like  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Ah,  but  if  you  meddle  with  politics, 
you  must  submit  to  be  held  up  on  the  prongs  of  a  fork,  my 
boy;  soaped  by  your  backers  and  shaved  by  the  foe;  and 
there  's  a  figure  for  a  gentleman  !  as  your  uncle  Romfrey 
says." 

Cecilia  did  not  join  this  discussion,  though  she  had  heard 
from  her  father  that  something  grotesque  had  been  written 
of  Nevil.  Her  foolishness  in  blushing  vexed  body  and 
mind.  She  was  incensed  by  a  silly  compliment  that  struck 
at  her  feminine  nature  when  her  intellect  stood  in  arms. 
Yet  more  hurt  was  she  by  the  reflection  that  a  too  lively 
sensibility  might  have  conjured  up  the  idea  of  the  com- 
pliment. And  again,  she  wondered  at  herself  for  not 
resenting  so  rare  a  presumption  as  it  implied,  and  not  dis- 
daining so  outworn  a  form  of  flattery.  She  wondered  at 
herself  too  for  thinking  of  resentment  and  disdain  in  re- 
lation to  the  familiar  commonplaces  of  licenced  imperti- 
nence. Over  all  which  hung  a  darkened  image  of  her 
spirit  of  independenccj  like  a  moon  in  eclipse. 

Where  lay  his  weakness  ?  Evidently  in  the  belief  that 
he  had  thought  profoundly.  But  what  minor  item  of  in- 
sufficiency or  feebleness  was  discernible  ?  She  discovered 
that  he  could  be  easily  fretted  by  similes  and  metaphors : 
they  set  him  staggering  and  groping  like  an  ancient  knight 
of  faery  in  a  forest  bewitched. 

''Your  specific  for  the  country  is,  then,  Radicalism,"  she 
said,  after  listening  to  an  attack  on  the  Tories  for  their 
want  of  a  policy  and  indifference  to  the  union  of  classes. 

"I  would  prescribe  a  course  of  it,  Cecilia;  yes,"  he 
turned  to  her. 

"  The  Dr.  Dulcamara  of  a  single  drug  ?  " 

"Now  you  have  a  name  for  me !  Tory  arguments  always 
come  to  epithets." 

"It  should  not  be  objectionable.  Is  it  not  honest  to 
pretend  to  have  only  one  cure  for  mortal  maladies  ?  There 
can  hardly  be  two  panaceas,  can  there  be  ?  " 

"  So  you  call  me  quack  ?  " 

"No,  Nevil,  no,"  she  breathed  a  rich  contralto  note  of 
denial:  "but  if  the  country  is  the  patient,  and  you  will 
have  it  swallow  your  prescription.   ..." 

"  There  's  nothing  like  a  metaphor  for  an  evasion,"  said 
Nevil,  blinking  over  it. 


134  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

She  drew  him  another  analogy,  longer  than  was  at  all 
necessary;  so  tedious  that  her  father  struck  through  it 
with  the  remark,  — 

"  Concerning  that  quack  —  that 's  one  in  the  background, 
though ! " 

"I  know  of  none,"  said  Beauchamp,  well-advised  enough 
to  forbear  mention  of  the  name  of  Shrapnel. 

Cecilia  petitioned  that  her  stumbling  ignorance,  which 
sought  the  road  of  wisdom,  might  be  heard  out.  She  had 
a  reserve  entanglement  for  her  argumentative  friend. 
"You  were  saying,  Nevil,  that  you  were  for  principles 
rather  than  for  individuals,  and  you  instanced  Mr. 
Cougham,  the  senior  Liberal  candidate  of  Bevisham,  as 
one  whom  you  would  prefer  to  see  in  Parliament  instead 
of  Seymour  Austin,  though  you  confess  to  Mr.  Austin's 
far  superior  merits  as  a  politician  and  servant  of  his  coun- 
try: but  Mr.  Cougham  supports  Liberalism  while  Mr. 
Austin  is  a  Tory.     You  are  for  the  principle." 

"I  am,"  said  he,  bowing. 

She  asked:  "Is  not  that  equivalent  to  the  doctrine  of 
election  by  Grace  ?  " 

Beauchamp  interjected :  "  Grace !  election  ?  " 

Cecilia  was  tender  to  his  inability  to  follow  her  allusion. 

"Thou  art  a  Liberal  —  then  rise  to  membership,"  she 
said.  "  Accept  my  creed,  and  thou  art  of  the  chosen.  Yes, 
Nevil,  you  cannot  escape  from  it.  Papa,  he  preaches  Cal- 
vinism in  politics." 

"  We  stick  to  men,  and  good  men,"  the  colonel  flourished. 
"Old  English  for  me!" 

"You  might  as  well  say,  old  timber  vessels,  when  Iron's 
afloat,  colonel." 

"I  suspect  you  have  the  worst  of  it  there,  papa,"  said 
Cecilia,  taken  by  the  unexpectedness  and  smartness  of  the 
comparison  coming  from  wits  that  she  had  been  under- 
valuing. , 

"  I  shall  not  own  I  'm  worsted  until  I  surrender  my 
vote,"  the  colonel  rejoined. 

"t- won't  despair  of  it,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Colonel  Halkett  bade  him  come  for  it  as  often  as  he 
liked.  "  You  '11  be  beaten  in  Bevisham,  I  warn  you.  Tory 
reckonings  are  safest:  it 's  an  admitted  fact:  and  we  know 


BEAUCHAMP  IN  HIS  COLOURS  135 

you  can't  win.  According  to  my  judgment  a  man  owes  a 
duty  to  his  class." 

"  A  man  owes  a  duty  to  his  class  as  long  as  he  sees  his 
class  doing  its  duty  to  the  country,"  said  Beauchamp; 
and  he  added,  rather  prettily  in  contrast  with  the  senten- 
tious commencement,  Cecilia  thought,  that  the  apathy  of 
his  class  was  proved  when  such  as  he  deemed  it  an  obliga- 
tion on  them  to  come  forward  and  do  what  little  they 
could.  The  deduction  of  the  proof  was  not  clearly  conse- 
quent, but  a  meaning  was  expressed;  and  in  that  form  it 
brought  him  nearer  to  her  abstract  idea  of  Nevil  Beau- 
champ  than  when  he  raged  and  was  precise. 

After  his  departure  she  talked  of  him  with  her  father, 
to  be  charitably  satirical  over  him,  it  seemed. 

The  critic  in  her  ear  had  pounced  on  his  repetition  of 
certain  words  that  betrayed  a  dialectical  stiffness  and 
hinted  a  narrow  vocabulary:  his  use  of  emphasis,  rather 
reminding  her  of  his  uncle  Everard,  was,  in  a  young  man, 
a  little  distressing.  "The  apathy  of  the  country,  papa; 
the  apathy  of  the  rich ;  a  state  of  universal  apathy.  Will 
you  inform  me,  papa,  what  the  Tories  are  doing  ?  Do  we 
really  give  our  consciences  to  the  keeping  of  the  parsons 
once  a  week,  and  let  them  dogmatize  for  us  to  save  us  from 
exertion  ?  We  must  attach  ourselves  to  principles  ;  noth- 
ing is  permanent  but  principles.  Poor  Nevil !  And  still  I 
am  sure  you  have,  as  I  have,  the  feeling  that  one  must 
respect  him.  I  am  quite  convinced  that  he  supposes  he  is 
doing  his  best  to  serve  his  country  by  trying  for  Parlia- 
ment, fancying  himself  a  Radical.  I  forgot  to  ask  him 
whether  he  had  visited  his  great-aunt,  Mrs.  Beauchamp. 
They  say  the  dear  old  lady  has  influence  with  him." 

"I  don't  think  he's  been  anywhere,"  Colonel  Halkett 
half  laughed  at  the  quaint  fellow.  *'l  wish  the  other 
great-nephew  of  hers  were  in  England,  for  us  to  run  him 
against  Nevil  Beauchamp.  He  's  touring  the  world.  I  'm. 
told  he  's  orthodox,  and  a  tough  debater.  We  have  to  take 
what  we  can  get." 

"  My  best  wishes  for  your  success,  and  you  and  I  will 
not  talk  of  politics  any  more,  papa.  I  hope  Nevil  will 
come  often,  for  his  own  good  ;  he  will  meet  his  own  set  of 
people  here.     And  if  he  should  dogmatize  so  much  as  to 


136 

rouse  our  apathy  to  denounce  his  principles,  we  will  re- 
member that  we  are  British,  and  can  be  sweet-blooded  in 
opposition.  Perhaps  he  may  change,  even  tra  le  tre  ore  e 
le  quattro :  electioneering  should  be  a  lesson.  From  my 
recollection  of  Blackburn  Tuckham,  he  was  a  boisterous 
boy." 

"  He  writes  uncommonly  clever  letters  home  to  his  aunt 
Beauchamp.  She  has  handed  them  to  me  to  read,"  said  the 
colonel.  "  I  do  like  to  see  tolerably  solid  young  fellows : 
they  give  one  some  hope  of  the  stability  of  the  country." 

"  They  are  not  so  interesting  to  study,  and  not  half  so 
amusing,"  said  Cecilia. 

,  Colonel  Halkett  muttered  his  objections  to  the  sort  of 
amusement  furnished  by  firebrands. 

"Firebrand  is  too  strong  a  word  for  poor  Nevil,"  she 
remonstrated. 

In  that  estimate  of  the  character  of  Nevil  Beauchamp, 
Cecilia  soon  had  to  confess  that  she  had  been  deceived, 
though  not  by  him. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

HIS    FRIEND   AND    FOE 


L'ooKiNG  from  her  window  very  early  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing  Miss  Halkett  saw  Beauchamp  strolling  across  the  grass 
of  the  park.  She  dressed  hurriedly  and  went  out  to  greet 
him,  smiling  and  thanking  him  for  his  friendliness  in 
coming. 

He  said  he  was  delighted,  and  appeared  so,  but  dashed 
the'  sweetness.     "You  know  I  can't  canvass  on  Sundays." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  she  replied.  "  Have  you  walked  up 
from  Bevisham?    You  must  be  tired." 

"  Nothing  tires  me,"  said  he. 

With  that  they  stepped  on  together. 

Mount  Laurels,  a  fair  broad  house  backed  by  a  wood  of 
beeches  and  firs,  lay  open  to  view  on  the  higher  grassed 
knoll  of  a  series  of  descending  turfy  mounds  dotted  with 


HIS  FEIEND  AND  FOE  137 

gorse-clumps,  and  faced  South-westerly  along  the  run  of  the 
Otley  river  to  the  gleaming  broad  water  and  its  opposite 
border  of  forest,  beyond  which  the  downs  of  the  island  threw 
long  interlopping  curves.  Great  ships  passed  on  the  line  of 
the  water  to  and  fro;  and  a  little  mist  of  masts  of  the 
fishing  and  coasting  craft  by  Otley  village,  near  the  river's 
mouth,  was  like  a  web  in  air.  Cecilia  led  him  to  her  dusky 
wood  of  firs,  where  she  had  raised  a  bower  for  a  place  of 
poetical  contemplation  and  reading  when  the  clear  lapping 
salt  river  beneath  her  was  at  high  tide.  She  could  hail  the 
Esperanza  from  that  cover  ;  she  could  step  from  her  draw- 
ing-room window,  over  the  flower-beds,  down  the  gravel  walk 
to  the  hard,  and  be  on  board  her  yacht  within  seven  minutes, 
out  on  her  salt  water  lake  within  twenty,  closing  her  wings 
in  a  French  harbour  by  nightfall  of  a  summer's  day,  when- 
ever she  had  the  whim  to  fly  abroad.  Of  these  enviable 
privileges  she  boasted  with  some  happy  pride. 

"  It 's  the  finest  yachting-station  in  England,"  said  Beau- 
champ. 

She  expressed  herself  very  glad  that  he  should  like  it  so 
much.  Unfortunately  she  added,  "  I  hope  you  will  find  it 
pleasanter  to  be  here  than  canvassing." 

"  I  have  no  pleasure  in  canvassing,"  said  he.  "  I  canvass 
poor  men  accustomed  to  be  paid  for  their  votes,  and  who  get 
nothing  from  me  but  what  the  baron  would  call  a  parsonical 
exhortation.  I  ^m  in  the  thick  of  the  most  spiritless  crew  in 
the  kingdom.  Our  southern  men  will  not  compare  with  the 
men  of  the  north.  But  still,  even  among  these  fellows,  I 
see  danger  for  the  country  if  our  commerce  were  to  fail,  if 
distress  came  on  them.  There  's  always  danger  in  disunion. 
That  *s  what  the  rich  won't  see.  They  see  simply  nothing 
out  of  their  own  circle  ;  and  they  won't  ta^e  a  thought  of 
the  overpowering  contrast  between  their  luxury  and  the 
way  of  living,  that 's  half-starving,  of  the  poor.  They  under- 
stand it  when  fever  comes  up  from  back  alleys  and  cottages, 
and  then  they  join  their  efforts  to  sweep  the  poor  out  of  the 
district.  The  poor  are  to  get  to  their  work  anyhow,  after  a 
long  morning's  walk  over  the  proscribed  space ;  for  we  must 
have  poor,  you  know.  The  wife  of  a  parson  I  canvassed 
yesterday,  said  to  me,  ^  Who  is  to  work  for  us,  if  you  do 
away  with  the  poor,  Captain  Beauchamp  ? ' " 


138  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAKEER 

Cecilia  quitted  her  bower  and  traversed  the  wood  silently. 

"So  you  would  blow  up  my  poor  Mount  Laurels  for  a 
peace-offering  to  the  lower  classes  ?  " 

"I  should  hope  to  put  it  on  a  stronger  foundation, 
Cecilia." 

"  By  means  of  some  convulsion  ?  " 

"By  forestalling  one." 

"That  must  be  one  of  the  new  ironclads/'  observed 
Cecilia,  gazing  at  the  black  smoke-pennon  of  a  tower  that 
slipped  along  the  water-line.  "Yes?  You  were  saying? 
Put  us  on  a  stronger  —  ?  " 

"  It 's,  I  think,  the  Hastings :  she  broke  down  the  other 
day  on  the  trial  trip,"  said  Beaucharap,  watching  the  ship's 
progress  animatedly.  "  Peppel  commands  her  —  a  capital 
officer.  I  suppose  we  must  have  these  costly  big  floating 
barracks.  I  don't  like  to  hear  of  everything  being  done  for 
the  defensive.  The  defensive  is  perilous  policy  in  war. 
It 's  true,  the  English  don't  wake  up  to  their  work  under 
half  a  year.  But,  no:  defending  and  looking  to  defences 
is  bad  for  the  fighting  power;  and  there's  half  a  million 
gone  on  that  ship.  Half  a  million  !  Do  you  know  how- 
many  poor  taxpayers  it  takes  to  make  up  that  sum, 
Cecilia?" 

"A  great  many,"  she  slurred  over  them ;  "but  we  must 
have  big  ships,   and  the  best  that  are  to  be  had." 

"  Powerful  fast  rams,  sea-worthy  and  fit  for  running  over 
shallows,  carrying  one  big  gun;  swarms  of  harryers  and 
worriers  known  to  be  kept  ready  for  immediate  service ; 
readiness  for  the  offensive  in  case  of  war  —  there 's  the  best 
defence  against  a  declaration  of  war  by  a  foreign  State." 

"  I  like  to  hear  you,  Nevil, "  said  Cecilia,  beaming :  "  Papa 
thinks  we  have  a  miserable  army  —  in  numbers.  Pie  says, 
the  wealthier  we  become  the  more  difficult  it  is  to  recruit 
able-bodied  men  on  the  volunteering  system.  Yet  the 
wealthier  we  are  the  more  an  army  is  wanted,  both  to 
defend  our  wealth  and  to  preserve  order.  I  fancy  he  half 
inclines  to  compulsory  enlistment.  Do  speak  to  him  on 
that  subject." 

Cecilia  must  have  been  innocent  of  a  design  to  awaken 
the  fire-flash  in  Nevil's  eyes.  She  had  no  design,  but  hos- 
tility was  latent,  and  hence  perhaps  the  offending  phrase. 


HIS  FRIEND  AND  FOE  139 

He  nodded  and  spoke  coolly.  "  An  army  to  preserve 
order  ?     So,  then,  an  army  to  threaten  civil  war  !  " 

"To  crush  revolutionists.'* 

"  Agitators,  you  mean.  My  dear  good  old  colonel  —  I 
have  always  loved  him  —  must  not  have  more  troops  at  his 
command." 

"Do  you  object  to  the  drilling  of  the  whole  of  the 
people  ?  '* 

"  Does  not  the  colonel,  Cecilia  ?  I  am  sure  he  does  in 
his  heart,  and,  for  different  reasons,  I  do.  He  won't  trust 
the  working-classes,  nor  I  the  middle." 

"  Does  Dr.  Shrapnel  hate  the  middle-class  ?  " 

"Dr.  Shrapnel  cannot  hate.  He  and  I  are  of  opinion, 
that  as  the  middle-class  are  the  party  in  power,  they  would 
not,  if  they  knew  the  use  of  arms,  move  an  inch  farther  in 
Eeform,  for  they  would  no  longer  be  in  fear  of  the  class 
below  them." 

"  But  what  horrible  notions  of  your  country  have  you, 
Nevil !  It  is  dreadful  to  hear.  Oh  !  do  let  us  avoid  poli- 
tics for  ever.     Fear  !  " 

"All  concessions  to  the  people  have  been  won  from 
fear." 

"  I  have  not  heard  so." 

"  I  will  read  it  to  you  in  the  History  of  England." 

"  You  paint  us  in  a  condition  of  Revolution." 

"Happily  it's  not  a  condition  unnatural  to  us.  The 
danger  would  be  in  not  letting  it  be  progressive,  and 
there  's  a  little  danger  too  at  times  in  our  slowness.  We 
change  our  blood  or  we  perish." 

"Dr.  Shrapnel?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  Dr.  Shrapnel  say  that.  And,  by-the- 
way,  Cecilia  —  will  you  ?  can  you  ?  —  take  me  for  the  wit- 
ness to  his  character.  He  is  the  most  guileless  of  men, 
and  he 's  the  most  unguarded.  My  good  Rosamund  saw 
him.  She  is  easily  prejudiced  when  she  is  a  trifle  jealous, 
and  you  may  hear  from  her  that  he  rambles,  talks  wildly. 
It  may  seem  so.  I  maintain  there  is  wisdom  iii  him  when 
conventional  minds  would  think  him  at  his  wildest.  Be- 
lieve me,  he  is  the  humanest,  the  best  of  men,  tender- 
•  hearted  as  a  child:  the  most  benevolent,  simple-minded,. 
admirable  old  man  — the  man  I  am  proudest  to  think  of  as 


140  BEAtJCHAMP^S   CAREER 

an  Englishman  and  a  man  living  in  my  time,  of  all  men 
existing.     I  can't  overpraise  him/* 

'^  He  has  a  bad  reputation." 

"  Only  with  the  class  that  will  not  meet  him  and  answer 
him." 

"  Must  we  invite  him  to  our  houses  ?  " 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  get  him  to  come,  if  you  did.  I 
mean,  meet  him  in  debate  and  answer  his  arguments.  Try 
the  question  by  brains." 

"  Before  mobs  ?  " 

"  Not  before  mobs.  I  punish  you  by  answering  you 
seriously." 

"  I  am  sensible  of  the  flattery." 

"Before  mobs!"  Nevil  ejaculated.  "It^s  the  Tories 
th^-t  mob  together  and  cry  down  every  man  who  appears  to 
them  to  threaten  their  privileges.  Can  you  guess  what 
Dr.  Shrapnel  compares  them  to  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  Nevil,  I  have  not  an  idea.  I  only  wish  your 
patriotism  were  large  enough  to  embrace  them." 

"  He  compares  them  to  geese  claiming  possession  of  the 
whole  common,- and  hissing  at  every  foot  of  ground  they 
have  to  yield.  They  're  always  having  to  retire  and  always 
hissing.     ^  Ketreat  and  menace,'  that 's  the  motto  for  them." 

"Very  well,  Nevil,  I  am  a  goose  upon  a  common." 

So  saying,  Cecilia  swam  forward  like  a  swan  on  water  to 
give  the  morning  kiss  to  her  papa,  by  the  open  window  of 
the  breakfast-room. 

Never  did  bird  of  Michaelmas  fling  off  water  from  her 
feathers  more  thoroughly  than  this  fair  young  lady  the 
false  title  she  pretended  to  assume. 

"  I  hear  you  're  of  the  dinner  party  at  Grancey  Lespel's 
on  Wednesday,'*  the  colonel  said  to  Beauchamp.  "  You  '11 
have  to  stand  fire." 

"  They  will,  papa,"  murmured  Cecilia.  "  Will  Mr.  Austin 
be  there  ?  " 

"  I  particularly  wish  to  meet  Mr.  Austin,"  said  Beau- 
champ. 

"  Listen  to  him,  if  you  do  meet  him,"  she  replied. 

His  look  was  rather  grave. 

"  Lespel  's  a  Whig,"  he  said. 

The  colonel  answered.     "Lespel  was  a  Whig.     Once  a 


HIS   FEIEKD  AND  FOE  141 

Tory  always  a  Tory,  —  but  court  the  people  aad  you  '^e  ou 
quicksands,  and  that 's  where  the  Whigs  are.  What  he  is 
now  I  don't  think  he  knows  himself.  You  won't  get  a 
vote." 

Cecilia  watched  her  friend  Nevil  recovering  from  his 
short  fit  of  gloom.  He  dismissed  politics  at  breakfast  and 
grew  companionable,  with  the  charm  of  his  earlier  day. 
He  was  willing  to  accompany  her  to  church  too. 

"  You  will  hear  a  long  sermon,"  she  warned  him. 

"Forty  minutes."  Colonel  Halkett  smothered  a  yawn 
that  was  both  retro  and  prospective. 

*^  It  has  been  fifty,  papa." 

"  It  has  been  an  hour,  my  dear." 

It  was  good  discipline  nevertheless,  the  colonel  afiirmed, 
and  Cecilia  praised  the  Eev.  Mr.  Brisk  of  Urplesdon 
vicarage  as  one  of  our  few  remaining  Protestant  clergymen. 

"  Then  he  ought  to  be  supported,"  said  Beauchamp.  "  In 
the  dissensions  of  religious  bodies  it  is  wise  to  pat  the 
weaker  party  on  the  back.  —  I  quote  Stukely  Culbrett." 

"I've  heard  him,"  sighed  the  colonel.  "He  calls  the 
Protestant  clergy  the  social  police  of  the  English  middle- 
class.  Those  are  the  things  he  lets  fly^  I  have  heard  that 
man  say  that  the  Church  stands  to  show  the  passion  of  the 
human  race  for  the  drama.  He  said  it  in  my  presence. 
And  there's  a  man  who  calls  himself  a  Tory!  You  have 
rather  too  much  of  that  playing  at  grudges  and  dislikes  at 
Steynham,  with  squibs,  nicknames,  and  jests  at  things  that 
—  well,  that  our  stability  is  bound  up  in.     I  hate  squibs." 

"And  I,"  said  Beauchamp.  Some  shadow  of  a  frown 
crossed  him ;  but  Stukely  Culbret^t's  humour  seemed  to  be 
a  refuge. f  "Protestant  parson  —  not  clergy,"  he  corrected 
the  6olonel.  "Can't  you  hear  Mr.  Culbrett,  Cecilia?  The 
Protestant  parson  is  the  policeman  set  to  watch  over  the 
respectability  of  the  middle-class.  He  has  sharp  eyes  for 
the  sins  of  the  poor.  As  for  the  rich,  they  support  his 
church ;  they  listen  to  his  sermon  —  to  set  an  example : 
discipline,  colonel.  You  discipline  the  tradesman,  who's 
afraid  oi  losing  your  custom,  and  the  labourer,  who  might 
be  deprived  of  his  bread.  But  the  people  ?  It 's  put  down 
to, the  wickedness  of  human  nature  that  the  parson  has  not 
got  hold  of  the  people.    The  parsons  have  lost  them  by 


142  BEAUCHAlVrp's   CAREER 

senseless  Conservatism,  because  they  look  to  the  Tories  for 
the  support  of  their  Church,  and  let  the  religion  run  down 
the  gutters.  And  how  many  thousands  have  you  at  work 
in  the  pulpit  every  Sunday  ?  I  'm  told  the  Dissenting 
ministers  have  some  vitality.'' 

Colonel  Halkett  shrugged  with  disgust  at  the  mention  of 
Dissenters. 

"And  those  thirty  or  forty  thousand,  colonel,  call  the* 
men  that  do  the  work  they  ought  to  be  doing  demagogues. 
The   parsonry  are  a  power  absolutely  to  be  counted   for 
waste,  as  to  progress." 

Cecilia  perceived  that  her  father  was  beginning  to  be 
fretted. 

She  said,  with  a  tact  that  effected  its  object :  "  I  am  one 
who  hear  Mr.  Culbrett  without  admiring  his  wit." 

"No,  and  I  see  no  good  in  this  kind  of  Steynham  talk," 
Colonel  Halkett  said,  rising.  "  We  're  none  of  us  perfect. 
Heaven  save  us  from  political  parsons  !  " 

Beauchamp  was  heard  to  utter,  "  Humanity." 

The  colonel  left  ihe  room  with  Cecilia,  muttering  the 
Steynham  tail  to  that  word,  "tomtity,"  for  the  solace  of 
an  aside  repartee. 

She  was  on  her  way  to  dress  for  church.  He  drew  her 
into  the  library,  and  there  threw  open  a  vast  placard  lying 
on  the  table.  It  was  printed  in  blue  characters  and  red. 
"  This  is  what  I  got  by  the  post  this  morning.  I  suppose 
Nevil  knows  about  it.  He  wants  tickling,  but  I  don't  like 
this  kind'  of  thing.  It's  not  fair  war.  It's  as  bad  as  using 
explosive  bullets  in  my  old  game." 

"  Can  he  expect  his  adversaries  to  be  tender  with  him  ?  " 
Cecilia  simulated  vehemence  in  an  underbreath.  She 
glanced  down  the  page. 

"  French  Marquees  "  caught  her  eye. 

It  was  a  page  of  verse.  And,  oh !  could  it  have  issued 
from  a  Tory  Committee  ? 

"  The  Liberals  are  as  bad,  and  worse,"  her  father  said. 

She  became  more  and  more  distressed.  "It  seems  so 
very  mean,  papa;  so  base.  Ungenerous  is  no  word  for  it. 
And  how  vulgar  !  Now  I  remember,  Nevil  said  he  wished 
to  see  Mr.   Austin." 

"  Seymour  Austin  would  not  sanction  it." 


HIS   FRIEND   AND   FOE  143 

"  No,  but  Ne^vil  might  hold  him  responsible  for  it." 

"  I  suspect  Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett,  whom  he  quotes,  and 
that  smoking-room  lot  at  Lespel's.  I  distinctly  discoun- 
tenance it.  So  I  shall  tell  them  on  Wednesday  night.  Can 
you  keep  a  secret  ?  " 

"  And  after  all  Nevil  Beauchamp  is  very  young,  papa !  — 
of  course  I  can  keep  a  secret." 

"  The  colonel  exacted  no  word  of  honour,  feeling  quite  sure 
of  her. 

-    He  whispered  the  secret  in  six  words,  and  her  cheeks 
glowed  vermilion. 

"  But  they  will  meet  on  Wednesday  after  ^/m,"  she  said, 
and  her  sight  went  dancing  down  the  column  of  verse,  of 
which  the  following  trotting  couplet  is  a  specimen  :  — 

"  0  did  you  ever,  hot  in  love,  a  little  British  middy  see, 
Like  Orpheus  asking  what  the  deuce  to  do  without  Eurydice  f  " 

The  middy  is  jilted  by  his  French  Marquees,  whom  he 
"did  adore,"  and  in  his  wrath  he  recommends  himself  to  the 
wealthy  widow  Bevisham,  concerning  whose  choice  of  her 
suitors  there  is  a  doubt :  but  the  middy  is  encouraged  to 
persevere :  — 

"  Up,  up,  my  pretty  middy ;  take  a  draught  of  foaming  Sillery,' 
Go  in  and  win  the  widdy  ivith  your  Radical  artillery'* 

And  if  Sillery  will  not  do,  he  is  advised,  he  being  for 
superlatives,  to  try  the  sparkling  Silliery  of  the  Eadical 
vintage,  selected  grapes. 

This  was  but  impudent  nonsense.  But  the  reiterated 
apostrophe  to  "  My  French  Marquees  "  was  considered  by 
Cecilia  to  be  a  brutal  offence. 

She  was  shocked  that  her  party  should  have  been  guilty 
of  it.  Nevil  certainly  provoked,  and  he  required,  hard 
blows ;  and  his  uncle  Everard  might  be  right  in  telling  her 
father  that  they  were  the  best  means  of  teaching  him  to 
come  to  his  understanding.  Still  a  foul  and  stupid  squib 
did  appear  to  her  a  debasing  weapon  to  use. 

"  I  cannot  congratulate  you  on  your  choice  of  a  second 
candidate,  papa,"  she  said  scornfully. 

"  I  don't  much  congratulate  myself,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  Here  's  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Beauchamp  informing  me  that 


144  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

her  boy  Blackburn  will  be  home  in  a  month.  There  would 
have  been  plenty  of  time  for  him.  However,  we  must  make 
up  our  minds  to  it.  Those  two  '11  be  meeting  on  Wednesday, 
so  keep  your  secret.     It  will  be  out  to-morrow  week." 

"But  Nevil  will  be  accusing  Mr.  Austin." 

"  Austin  won't  be  at  LespePs.  And  he  must  bear  it,  for 
the  sake  of  peace." 

"Is  Nevil  ruined  with  his  uncle,  papa ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,  I  should  imagine.     It 's  Romfrey's  fun.'* 

"  And  this  disgraceful  squib  is  a  part  of  the  fun  ?  " 

"  That  I  know  nothing  about,  my  dear,  I  'm  sorry,  but 
there 's  pitch  and  tar  in  politics  as  well  as  on  ship-board." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  there  should  be,"  said  Cecilia  reso- 
lutely. 

"We  can't  hope  to  have  what  should  be." 

"  Why  not  ?  I  would  have  it :  I  would  do  my  utmost  to 
have  it,"  she  flamed  out. 

"  Your  utmost  ?  "  Her  father  was  glancing  a|  her  fore- 
gone mimicry  of  Beauchamp's  occasional  strokes  of  empha- 
sis. "  Do  your  utmost  to  have  your  bonnet  on  in  time  for 
us  to  walk  to  church.     I  can't  bear  driving  there." 

Cecilia  went  to  her  room  with  the  curious  reflection, 
awakened  by  what  her  father  had  chanced  to  suggest  to  her 
mind,  that  she  likewise  could  be  fervid,  positive,  uficom- 
promisiug  —  who  knows  ?  Radicalish,  perhaps,  when  she 
looked  eye  to  eye  on  an  evil.  For  a  moment  or  «o  she 
espied  within  herself  a  gulf  of  possibilities,  wherein  black 
night-birds,  known  as  queries,  roused  by  shot  of  light,  do 
flap  their  wings.  —  Her  utmost  to  have  be  what  should  b^  ! 
And  why  not  ? 

.  But  the  intemperate  feeling  subsided  while  she  was  do- 
ing duty  before  her  mirror,  and  the  visionary  gulf  closed 
immediately. 

She  had  merely  been  very  angry  on  Nevil  Beauchamp's 
behalf,  and  had  dimly  seen  that  a  woman  can  feel  insurgent, 
almost  revolutionary,  for  a  personal  cause,  Tory  though  her 
instinct  of  safety  and  love  of  smoothness  make  her. 

No  reflection  upon  this  casual  piece  of  self  or  sex  revelar 
tion  troubled  her  head.  She  did,  however,  think  of  her 
position  as  the  friend  of  Nevil  in  utter  antagonism  to  him. 
It  beset  her  with  contradictions  that  blew  rough  on  her 


HIS  FRIEND  AND  FOE  145 

cherished  serenity  ;  for  she  was  of  the  order  of  ladies  who, 
by  virtue  of  their  pride  and  spirit,  their  port  and  their 
beauty,  decree  unto  themselves  the  rank  of  princesses 
among  women,  before  our  world  has  tried  their  claim  to 
it.  She  had  lived  hitherto  in  upper  air,  high  above  the 
clouds  of  earth.  Her  ideal  of  a  man  was  of  one  similarly 
disengaged  and  lofty  —  loftier.  Nevil,  she  could  honestly 
say,  was  not  her  ideal ;  he  was  only  her  old  friend,  and  she 
was  opposed  to  him  in  his  present  adventure.  The  striking 
at  him  to  cure  him  of  his  mental  errors  and  excesses  was 
an  obligation ;  she  could  descend  upon  him  calmly  with  the 
chastening  rod,  pointing  to  the  better  way ;  but  the  shield- 
ing of  him  was  a  different  thing  ;  it  dragged  her  down  so 
low,  that  in  her  condemnation  of  the  Tory  squib  she  found 
herself  asking  herself  whether  haply  Nevil  had  flung  off 
the  yoke  of  the  French  lady ;  with  the  foolish  excuse  for 
the  question,  that  if  he  had  not,  he  must  be  bitterly  sen- 
sitive to  the  slightest  public  allusion  to  her.  Had  he  ? 
And  if  not,  how  desperately  faithful  he  was  !  or  else  how 
marvellously  seductive  she ! 

Perhaps  it  was  a  lover's  despair  that  had  precipitated 
him  into  the  mire  of  politics.  She  conceived  the  impression 
that  it  must  be  so,  and  throughout  the  day  she  had  an  inex- 
plicable unsweet  pleasure  in  inciting  him  to  argumentation 
and  combating  him,  though  she  was  compelled  to  admit 
that  he  had  been  colloquially  charming  antecedent  to  her 
naughty  provocation  ;  and  though  she  was  indebted  to  him 
for  his  patient  decorum  under  the  weary  wave  of  the 
Keverend  Mr.  Brisk.  Now  what  does  it  matter  what  a 
woman  thinks  in  politics  ?  But  he  deemed  it  of  great 
moment.  Politically,  he  deemed  that  women  have  souls,  a 
certain  fire  of  life  for  exercise  on  earth.  He  appealed  to 
reason  in  them ;  he  would  not  hear  of  convictions.  He 
quoted  the  Bevisham  doctor :  "  Convictions  are  generally 
first  impressions  that  are  sealed  with  later  prejudices,"  and 
insisted  there  was  wisdom  in  it.  Nothing  tired  him,  as  he 
had  said,  and  addressing  woman  or  man,  no  prospect  of 
fatigue  or  of  hopeless  effort  daunted  him  in  the  endeavour 
to  correct  an  error  of  judgement  in  politics  —  his  notion  of 
an  error.  The  value  he  put  upon  speaking,  urging  his 
views,  was  really  fanatical.     It  appeared  that  he  canvassed 

10 


146 

the  borougli  from  early  morning  till  hear  midnight,  ahd 
nothing,  would  persuade  him  that  his  chance   was    poor;, 
nothing  that  an  entrenched  Tory  like  her  father  was  not/ 
to  be  won  even  by  an  assault  of  all  the  reserve  forces  -  of 
Eadical  pathos,  prognostication,  and  statistics.  >       y' 

Only  conceive  Nevil  Beauchamp  knocking  at  doers  Jate 
at  night,  the  sturdy  beggar  of  a  vote  !  or  waylaying  work- 
men, as  he  confessed  without  shame  that  he  had  done,  on 
their  way  trooping  to  their  midday  meal ;  penetrating 
malodoriferous  rooms  of  dismal  ten-pound  cottagers,  to 
exhort  bedraggled  mothers  and  babes,  and  besotted  hus- 
bands; and  exposed  to  rebuffs  from  impertinent  trades- 
men; and  lampooned  and  travestied,  shouting  speeches 
to  roaring  men,  pushed  from  shoulder  to  shoulder  of  the 
mob  !  .  .  . 

Cecilia  dropped  a  curtain  on  her  mind's  picture  of  him. 
But  the  blinding  curtain  rekindled  the  thought  that  the 
line  he  had  taken  could  not  but  be  the  desperation  of  a 
lover  abandoned.  She  feared  it  was,  she  feared  it  was  not. 
Nevil  Beauchamp's  foe  persisted  in  fearing  that  it  was  not ; 
his  friend  feared  that  it  was.  Yet  why  ?  For  if  it  was, 
then  he  could  not  be  quite  in  earnest,  and  might  be  cured. 
ISTay,  but  earnestness  works  out  its  own  cure  more  surely 
than  frenzy,  and  it  should  be  preferable  to  think  him 
sound  of  heart,  sincere  though  mistaken.  Cecilia  could 
not  decide  upon  what  she  dared  wish  for  his  health's  good.  • 
Friend  and  foe  were  not  further  separable  within  her 
bosom  than  one  tick  from  another  of  a  clock ;  they  changed 
places,  and  next  his  friend  was  fearing  what  his  foe  -had 
feared :   they  were  inextricable. 

Why  had  he  not  sprung  up  on  a  radiant  aquiline  ambi-^ 
tion,  whither  one  might  have  followed  him,  with  eyes  and 
prayers  for  him,  if  it  was  not  possible  to  do  so  companion- 
ably  ?  'A*  present,  in  the  shape  of  a  canvassing  candidate, 
it  was  hardly  honourable  to  let  imagination  dwell  on  him, 
save  compassionately. 

When  he  rose  to  take  his  leave,  Cecilia  said,  '^Must  you 
go  to  Itcl)incope  on  Wednesday,  Nevil  ?  " 

Colonel  Halkett  added :  "  I  don't  think  I  would  go  to 
Lespel's  if  I  were  you.  I  rather  suspect  Seymour  Aus- 
tin will  be  coming  on  Wednesday,  and  that  '11  detain  me 


^  HIS  FRIEND  AND  FOE  147 

here,  and  you'  might  join  us  and  lend  him  an  ear  for  an 
evening." 

"  I  have  particular  reasons  for  going  to  LespePs  ;  I  hear 
-he»  wavers  toward  a  Tory  conspiracy  of  some  sort,"  said 
Beauchamp. 

The  colonel  held  his  tongue. 

The  .  untiring  young  candidate  chose  to  walk  down  to 
Bevisham  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  that  he  might  be  the 
readier  to  continue  his  canvass  of  the  borough  on  Monday 
morning  early.  He  was  offered  a  bed  or  a  conveyance,  and 
he  declined  both ;  the  dog-cart  he  declined  out  of  consider- 
ation for  horse  and  groom,  which  an  owner  of  stables  could 
not  but  approve. 

Colohel  Halkett  broke  into  exclamations  of  pity  for  so 
good  a  young  fellow  so  misguided. 

The  night  was  moonless,  and  Cecilia,  looking  through 
the  window,  said  whimsically,  "  He  has  gone  out  into  the 
darkness,  and  is  no  light  in  it !  " 

Certainly  none  shone.  She  however  carried  a  lamp  that 
revealed  him  footing  on  with  a  wonderful  air  of  confidence, 
and  she  was  rather  surprised  to  hear  her  father  regret  that 
Nevil  Beauchamp  should  be  losing  his  good  looks  already, 
owing  to  that  miserable  business  of  his  in  Bevisham.  She 
would  have  thought  the  contrary,  that  he  was  looking  as 
well  as  ever. 

"  He  dresses  just  as  he  used  to  dress,"  she  observed. 

Xhe  individual  style  of  a  naval  officer  of  breeding,  in 
wHich  you  see  neatness  trifling  with  disorder,  or  disorder 
plucking  at  neatness,  like  the  breeze  a  trim  vessel,  had 
been  caught  to  perfection  by  Nevil  Beauchamp,  according 
to  Cecilia.  It  presented  him  to  her  mind  in  a  cheerful  and 
a  very  undemocratic  aspect,  but  in  realizing  it,  the  thought, 
like  something  flashing  black,  crossed  her — how  attractive 
such  a  style  must  be  to  a  Frenchwoman  ! 

"  He  may  look  a  little  worn,"  she  acquiesced.    , 


148  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

CHAPTER    XVIII 

CONCERNING   THE   ACT    OF    CANVASSING 

Tories  dread  the  restlessness  of  Eadicals,  and  Eadicals 
are  in  awe  of  the  organization  of  Tories.  Beauchamp 
thought  anxiously  of  the  high  degree  of  confidence  existing 
in  the  Tory  camp,  whose  chief  could  afford  to  keep  aloof, 
while  he  slaved  all  day  and  half  the  night  to  thump  ideas 
into  heads,  like  a  cooper  on  a  cask:  —  an  impassioned 
cooper  on  an  empty  cask !  if  such  an  image  is  presentable. 
Even  so  enviously  sometimes  the  writer  and  the  barrister, 
men  dependent  on  their  active  wits,  regard  the  man  with  a 
business  fixed  in  an  office  managed  by  clerks.  That  man 
seems  by  comparison  celestially  seated.  But  he  has  his 
fits  of  trepidation  ;  for  new  tastes  prevail  and  new  habits 
are  formed,  and  the  structure  of  his  business  will  not  allow 
him  to  adapt  himself  to  them  in  a  minute.  The  secure  and 
comfortable  have  to  pay  in  occasional  panics  for  the  se- 
renity they  enjoy.  Mr.  Seymour  Austin  candidly  avowed  to 
Colonel  Halkett,  on  his  arrival  at  Mount  Laurels,  that  he 
was  advised  to  take  up  his  quarters  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Bevisham  by  a  recent  report  of  his  committee,  describ- 
ing the  young  Radical's  canvass  as  redoubtable.  Cougham 
he  did  not  fear  :  he  could  make  a  sort  of  calculation  of  the 
votes  for  the  Liberal  thumping  on  the  old  drum  of  Reform  ; 
but  the  number  for  him  who  appealed  to  feelings  and 
quickened  the  romantic  sentiments  of  the  common  people 
now  huddled  within  our  electoral  penfold,  was  not  calcu- 
lable. Tory  and  Radical  have  an  eye  for  one  another, 
which  overlooks  the  Liberal  at  all  times  except  when  he  is, 
as  they  imagine,  playing  the  game  of  either  of  them. 

"  Now  we  shall  see  the  passions  worked,"  Mr.   Austin 
said,  deploring  the  extension  of  the  franchise. 
.    He  asked  whether  Beauchamp  spoke  well. 

Cecilia  left  it  to  her  father  to  reply ;  but  the  colonel  ap- 
pealed to  her,  saying,  *^  Inclined  to  dragoon  one,  is  n't  he  ?  " 

She  did  not  think  that.  "  He  speaks  ...  he  speaks  well 
in  conversation.     I  fancy  he  would  be  liked  by  the  poor.     I 


CONCEENING  THE  ACT   OF  CANVASSING  149 

should  doubt  his  being  a  good  public  speaker.  He  certainly 
has  command  of  his  temper :  that  is  one  thing.  I  cannot 
say  whether  it  favours  oratory.  He  is  indefatigable.  One 
may  be  sure  he  will  not  faint  by  the  way.  He  quite  be- 
lieves in  himself.  But,  Mr.  Austin,  do  you  really  regard 
him  as  a  serious  rival?  " 

Mr.  Austin  could  not  tell.  No  one  could  tell  the  effect 
of  an  extended  franchise.  The  untried  venture  of  it  de- 
pressed him.  "  Men  have  come  suddenly  on  a  borough 
before  now  and  carried  it,"  he  said. 

"  Not  a  borough  like  Bevisham  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head.     ^^  A  fluid  borough,  I  ^m  afraid." 

Colonel  Halkett  interposed  :  "  But  Ferbrass  is  quite  sure 
of  his  district." 

Cecilia  wished  to  know  who  the  man  was,  of  the  medi- 
sevally  sounding  name. 

"  Ferbrass  is  an  old  lawyer,  my  dear.  He  comes  of  five 
generations  of  lawyers,  and  he  's  as  old  in  the  county  as 
Grancey  Lespel.  Hitherto  he  has  always  been  to  be 
counted  on  for  marching  his  district  to  the  poll  like  a 
regiment.  That 's  our  strength  —  the  professions,  espe- 
cially lawyers." 

"  Are  not  a  great  many  lawyers  Liberals,  papa  ?  " 

"A  great  many  barristers  are,  my  dear." 

Thereat  the  colonel  and  Mr.  Austin  smiled  together. 

It  was  a  new  idea  to  Cecilia  that  Nevil  Beauchamp  should 
be  considered  by  a  man  of  the  world  anything  but  a  well- 
meaning,  moderately  ridiculous  young  candidate ;  and  the 
fact  that  one  so  experienced  as  Seymour  Austin  deemed*him 
an  adversary  to  be  grappled  with  in  earnest,  created  a  small 
revolution  in  her  mind,  entirely  altering  her  view  of  the 
probable  pliability  of  his  Radicalism  under  pressure  of  time 
and  circumstances.  Many  of  his  remarks,  that  she  had  pre- 
viously half  smiled  at,  came  across  her  memory  hard  as 
metal.  She  began  to  feel  some  terror  of  him,  and  said,  to 
reassure  herself :  "  Captain  Beauchamp  is  not  likely  to  be  a 
champion  with  a  very  large  following.  He  is  too  much>  of 
a  political  mystic,  I  think." 

"  Many  young  men  are,  before  they  have  written  out  a 
fair  copy  of  their  meaning,"  said  Mr.  Austin. 

Cecilia  laughed  to  herself  at  the  vision  of  the  fiery  Nevil 


150  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

engaged  in  writing  out  a  fair  copy  of  his  meaning.  How 
many  erasures  !  what  foot-notes  ! 

The  arrangement  was  for  Cecilia  to  proceed  to  Itchincope 
alone  for  a  couple  of  days,  and  bring  a  party  to  Mount 
Laurels  through  Bevisham  by  the  yacht  on  Thursday,  to 
meet  Mr.  Seymour  Austin  and  Mr.  Everard  Romfrey.  An 
early  day  of  the  next  week  had  been  agreed  on  for  the  un- 
masking, of  the  second  Tory  candidate.  She  promised  that 
in  case  Nevil  Beauchamp  should  have  the  hardihood  to 
enter  the  enemy's  nest  at  Itchincope  on  Wednesday,  at  the 
great  dinner  and  ball  there,  she  would  do  her  best  to  bring 
him  back  to  Mount  Laurels,  that  he  might  meet  his  uncle 
Everard,  who  was  expected  there.  "  At  least  he  may  con- 
sent to  come  for  an  evening,"  she  said.  "  Nothing  will  take 
him  from  that  canvassing.  It  seems  to  me  it  must  be  not 
merely  distasteful  .  .  .  ? " 

Mr.  Austin  replied :  "  It 's  disagreeable,  but  it 's  the 
practice.  I  would  gladly  be  bound  by  a  common  under- 
taking to  abstain." 

"  Captain  Beauchamp  argues  that  it  would  be  all  to  your 
advantage.  He  says  that  a  personal  visit  is  the  only  chance 
for  an  unknown  candidate  to  make  the  people  acquainted 
with  him." 

"  It 's  a  very  good  opportunity  for  making  him  acquainted 
with  them;  and  I  hope  he  may  profit  by  it." 

"  Ah  !  pah !  '  To  beg  the  vote  and  wink  the  bribe,' " 
Colonel  Halkett  subjoined  abhorrently  :  — 

"  *  It  well  becomes  the  Whiggish  tribe 
To  beg  the  vote  and  wink  the  bribe.' 

Canvassing  means  intimidation  or  corruption." 

"Or  the  mixture  of  the  two,  called  cajolery,"  said  Mr. 
Austin ;  "  and  that  was  the  principal  art  of  the  Whigs." 
Thus  did  these  gentlemen  converse  upon  canvassing. 
It  is  not  possible  to  gather  up  in  one  volume  of  sound 
the  rattle  of  the  knocks  at  Englishmen's  castle-gates  dur- 
ing election  days ;  so,  with  the  thunder  of  it  unheard,  the 
majesty  of  the  act  of  canvassing  can  be  but  barely  appre- 
ciable, and  he,  therefore,  who  would  celebrate  it  must 
fallow  the  candidate  obsequiously  from  door  to  door, 
where,  like  a  cross  between  a  postman  delivering  a  bill 


CONCERNING  THE  ACT   OF  CANVASSING  151 

and  a  beggar  craving  an  alms,  patiently  he  attempts  the 
extraction  of  the  vote,  as  little  boys  pick  periwinkles  with 
a  pin. 

"This  is  your  duty,  which  I  most  abjectly  entreat  you  to 
do,"  is  pretty  nearly  the  form  of  the  supplication. 

How  if,  instead  of  the  solicitation  of  the  thousands  by 
the  unit,  the  meritorious  unit  were  besought  by  rushing 
thousands  ?  —  as  a  mound  of  the  plains  that  is  circum- 
vented by  floods,  and  to  which  the  waters  cry,  Be  thou  our 
island.  Let  it  be  answered  the  questioner,  with  no  dis- 
courteous adjectives.  Thou  fool !  To  come  to  such  heights 
of  popular  discrimination  and  political  ardour  the  people 
would  have  to  be  vivified  to  a  pitch  little  short  of  eruptive : 
it  would  be  Boreas  blowing  ^tna  inside  them  ;  and  we 
should  have  impulse  at  work  in  the  country,  and  immense 
importance  attaching  to  a  man's  whether  he  will  or  he 
won't  —  enough  to  womanize  him.  We  should  be  all  but 
having  Parliament  for  a  sample  of  our  choicest  rather  than 
our  likest :  and  see  you  not  a  peril  in  that  ? 

Conceive,  for  the  fleeting  instants  permitted  to  such  in- 
sufferable flights  of  fancy,  our  picked  men  ruling !  So  des- 
potic an  oligarchy  as  would  be  there,  is  not  a  happy  subject 
of  contemplation.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  a  domi- 
nation of  the  Intellect  in  England  would  at  once  and  en- 
tirely alter  the  face  of  the  country.  We  should  be  governed 
by  the  head  with  a  vengeance :  all  the  rest  of  the  country 
being  base  members  indeed;  Spartans — helots.  Criticism, 
now  so  helpful  to  us,  would  wither  to  the  root :  fun  would 
die  out  of  Parliament,  and  outside  of  it :  we  could  never, 
laugh  at  our  masters,  or  command  them  :  and  that  good 
old-fashioned  shouldering  of  separate  interests,  which, 
if  it  stops  progress,  like  a  block  in  the  pit  entrance  to 
a  theatre,  proves  us  equal  before  the  law,  puts  an  end  to 
the  pretence  of  higher  merit  in  the  one  or  the  other,  and 
renders"  a  stout  build  the  safest  assurance  for  coming 
through  ultimately,  would  be  transformed  to  a  painful 
orderliness,  like  a  City  procession  under  the  conduct  of 
the  police,  and  to  classifications  of  things  according  to 
their  public  value :  decidedly  no  benefit  to  burly  free- 
dom. None,  if  there  were  no  shouldering  and  hustling, 
could  tell   whether   actually   the   fittest   survived ;    as   is 


152  BEATJCHAMP'S   CAREER 

now  the  case  among  survivors  delighting  in  a  broad-chested 
fitness. 

And  consider  the  freezing  isolation  of  a  body  of  our 
quintessential  elect,  seeing  below  them  none  to  resemble 
them  !  Do  you  not  hear  in  imagination  the  land's  regrets 
for  that  amiable  nobility  whose  pretensions  were  comically 
built  on  birth,  acres,  tailoring,  style,  and  an  air  ?  Ah,  that 
these  unchallengeable  new  lords  could  be  exchanged  for 
those  old  ones !  These,  with  the  traditions  of  how  great 
people  should  look  in  our  country,  these  would  pass 
among  us  like  bergs  of  ice  —  a  pure  Polar  aristocracy, 
inflicting  the  woes  of  wintriness  upon  us.  Keep  them 
from  concentrating!  At  present  I  believe  it  to  be  their 
honest  opinion,  their  wise  opinion,  and  the  sole  opinion 
common  to  a  majority  of  them,  that  it  is  more  salutary, 
besides  more  diverting,  to  have  the  fools  of  the  kingdom 
represented  than  not.  As  prof  essoins  of  the  sarcastic  art 
they  can  easily  take  the  dignity  out  of  the  fools'  represen- 
tative at  their  pleasure,  showing  him  at  antics  while  he 
supposes  he  is  exhibiting  an  honourable  and  a  decent  series 
of  movements.  Generally,  too,  their  archery  can  check 
him  when  he  is  for  any  of  his  measures ;  and  if  it  does  not 
check,  there  appears  to  be  such  a  property  in  simple  sneer- 
ing, that  it  consoles  even  when  it  fails  to  right  the  balance 
of  power.  Sarcasm,  we  well  know,  confers  a  title  of  aris- 
tocracy straightway  and  sharp  on  the  sconce  of  the  man 
who  does  but  imagine  that  he  is  using  it.  What,  then, 
must  be  the  elevation  of  thepe  princes  of  the  intellect  in 
their  own  minds  !  Hardly  worth  bartering  for  worldly  com- 
manderships,  it  is  evident. 

Briefly,  then,  we  have  a  system,  not  planned  but  grown, 
the  outcome  and  image  of  our  genius,  and  all  are  dissatisfied 
with  parts  of  it ;  but,  as  each  would  preserve  his  own,  the 
surest  guarantee  is  obtained  for  the  integrity  of  the  whole 
by  a  happy  adjustment  of  the  energies  of  opposition,  which 
—  you  have  only  to  look  to  see  —  goes  far  beyond  concord 
in  the  promotion  of  harmony.  This  is  our  English  system ; 
like  our  English  pudding,  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  all  the 
sweets  in  the  grocer's  shop,  but  an  excellent  thing  for  all 
'^hat,  and  let  none  threaten  it.  Canvassing  appears  to  be 
mixed  up  in  the  system ;  at  least  I  hope  I  have  shown  that 


LORD  PALMET  153 

it  will  not  do  to  reverse  the  process,  for  fear  of  changes 
leading  to  a  sovereignty  of  the  austere  and  antipathetic 
Intellect  in  our  England,  that  would  be  an  inaccessible 
tyranny  of  a  very  small  minority,  necessarily  followed  by 
tremendous  convulsions. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

LORD    PALMET,    AND    CERTAIN    ELECTORS    OF    BEVISHAM. 

Meantime  the  candidates  raised  knockers,  rang  bells, 
bowed,  expounded  their  views,  praised  their  virtues,  begged 
for  votes,  and  greatly  and  strangely  did  the  youngest  of 
them .  enlarge  his  knowledge  of  his  countrymen.  But  he 
had  an  insatiable  appetite,  and  except  in  relation  to  Mr. 
Cougljam,  considerable  tolerance.  With  Cougham,  he  was 
like  a  young  hound  in  the  leash.  They  had  to  run  as  twins  ; 
but  Beauchamp's  conjunct  would  not  run,  he  would  walk. 
He  imposed  his  experience  on  Beauchamp,  with  an  assump- 
tion that  it  must  necessarily  be  taken  for  the  law  of  Beau- 
champ's  reason  in  electoral  and  in  political  affairs,  and  this 
was  hard  on  Beauchamp,  who  had  faith  in  his  reason. 
Beauchamp's  early  canvassing  brought  Cougham  down  to 
Bevisham  earlier  than  usual  in  the  days  when  he  and 
Seymour  Austin  divided  the  borough,  and  he  inclined  to 
administer  correction  to  the  Radically-disposed  youngster. 
"  Yes,  I  have  gone  all  over  that,"  he  said,  in  speech  some- 
times, in  manner  perpetually,  upon  the  intrusion  of  an  idea 
by  his  junior.  Cougham  also,  Cougham  had  passed  through 
his  Radical  phase,  as  one  does  on  the  road  to  wisdom.  So 
the  frog  telleth  tadpoles :  he  too  has  wriggled  most  prepos- 
terous of  tails  ;  and  he  has  shoved  a  circular  flat  head  into 
corners  unadapted  to  its  shape ;  and  that  the  undeveloped 
one  should  dutifully  listen  to  experience  and  accept  guid- 
ance, is  devoutly  to  be  hoped.  Alas !  Beauchamp  would 
not  be  taught  that  though  they  were  yoked  they  stood  at 
the  opposite  ends  of  the  process  of  evolution. 


154  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAKEEB 

The  oddly  coupled  pair  deplored,  among  their  respective 
friends,  the  disastrous  Siamese  twinship  created  by  a  hap- 
hazard improvident  Liberal  camp.  Look  at  us  !  they  said  : 
—  Beauchamp  is  a  young  demagogue  ;  Cougham  is  chrysalis 
Tory.  Such  Liberals  are  the  ruin  of  Liberalism  ;  but  of  such 
must  it  be  composed  when  there  is  no  new  cry  to  loosen 
floods.  It  was  too  late  to  think  of  an  operation  to  divide 
them.  They  held  the  heart  of  the  cause  between  them,  were 
bound  fast  together,  and  had  to  go  on.  Beauchamp,  with 
a  furious  tug  of  Kadicalism,  spoken  or  performed,  pulled 
Cougham  on  his  beam-ends.  Cougham,  to  right  himself, 
defined  his  Liberalism  sharply  from  the  politics  of  the  pit, 
pointed  to  France  and  her  Revolutions,  washed  his  hands 
of  excesses,  and  entirely  overset  Beauchamp.  Seeing  that 
he  stood  in  the  Liberal  interest,  the  junior  could  not 
abandon  the  Liberal  flag ;  so  he  seized  it  and  bore  it  ahead 
of  the  time,  there  where  Radicals  trip  their  phantom  dances 
like  shadows  on  a  fog,  and  waved  it  as  the  very  flag  of  our 
perfectible  race.  So  great  was  the  impetus  that  Cougham 
had  no  choice  but  to  step  out  with  him  briskly  —  voluntarily 
as  a  man  propelled  by  a  hand  on  his  coat-collar.  A  word 
saved  him  :  the  word  practical.  "  Are  we  practical  ?  "  he 
inquired,  and  shivered  Beauchamp's  galloping  frame  with  a 
violent  application  of  the  stop  abrupt  ;  for  that  question, 
"Are 'we  practical  ?"  penetrates  the  bosom  of  an  English 
audience,  and  will  surely  elicit  a  response  if  not  plaudits. 
Practical  or  not,  the  good  people  affectingly  wish  to  be 
thought  practical.  It  has  been  asked  by  them  :  If  we  're  not 
practical,  what  are  we  ?  —  Beauchamp,  talking  to  Cougham 
apart,  would  argue  that  the  daring  and  the  far-sighted  course 
was  often  the  most  practical.  Cougham  extended  a  depre- 
cating hand:  ^' Yes,  I  have  gone  over  all  that."  Occasion- 
ally he  was  maddening. 

The  melancholy  position  of  the  senior  and  junior  Liberals 
was  known  abroad  and  matter  of  derision. 

It  happened  that  the  gay  and  good-humoured  young  Lord 
Palmet,  heir  to  the  earldom  of  Elsea,  walking  up  the  High 
Street  of  Bevis'ham,  met  Beauchamp  on  Tuesday  morning 
as  he  sallied  out  of  his  hotel  to  canvass.  Lord  Palmet  was 
one  of  the  numerous  half-friends  of  Cecil  Baskelett,  and  it 
may  be  a  revelation  of  his  character  to  you,  that  he  owned 


LORD   PALMET  155 

to  liking  Beauchamp  because  of  his  having  always  been 
a  favourite  with  the  women.  He  began  chattering,  with 
Beauchamp's  hand  in  his  :  "  I  've  hit  on  you,  have  I  ?  My 
dear  fellow,  Miss  Halkett  was  talking  of  you  last  night.  I 
slept  at  Mount  Laurels ;  went  on  purpose  to  have  a  peep. 
I  'm  bound  for  Itchincope.  They  We  some  grand  procession 
in  view  there ;  Lespel  wrote  for  my  team ;  I  suspect  he 's 
for  starting  some  new  October  races.  He  talks  of  half-a- 
dozen  drags.  He  must  have  lots  of  women  there.  I  say, 
what  a  splendid  creature  Cissy  Halkett  has  shot  up  !  She 
topped  the  season  this  year,  and  will  next.  You  're  for  the 
darkies,  Beauchamp.  So  am  1,  when  I  don't  see  a  blonde  ; 
just  as  a  fellow  admires  a  girl  when  there's  no  married 
woman  or  widow  in  sight.  And,  I  say,  it  can't  be  true 
you've  gone  in  for  that  crazy  Radicalism  ?  There  's  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  it,  you  know;  the  women  hate  it!  A 
married  blonde  of  five-and-twenty  's  the  Venus  of  them  all. 
Mind  you,  I  don't  forget  that  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux  is  a 
thorough-paced  brunette  ;  but,  upon  my  honour,  I  'd  bet  on 
Cissy  Halkett  at  forty.  '  A  dark  eye  in  woman,'  if  you  like, 
but  blue  and  auburn  drive  it  into  a  corner." 

Lord  Palmet  concluded  by  asking  Beauchamp  what  he 
was  doing  and  whither  going. 

Beauchamp  proposed  to  him  maliciously,  as  one  of  our 
hereditary  legislators,  to  come  and  see  something  of  can- 
vassing. Lord  Palmet  had  no  objection.  "  Capital  oppor- 
tunity  for  a  review  of  their  women,"  he  remarked.  "  I  map 
the  places  for  pretty  women  in  England ;  some  parts  of 
'Norfolk,  and  a  spot  or  two  in  Cumberland  and  Wales,  and 
the  island  over  there,  I  know  thoroughly.  Those  Jutes 
have  turned  out  some  splendid  fair  women.  Devonshire's 
worth  a  tour.  My  man  Davis  is  in  charge  of  my  team,  and 
he  drives  to  Itchincope  from  Washwater  station.  I  'm  inde- 
pendent ;  I  '11  have  an  hour  with  you.  Do  you  think  much 
of  the  women  here  ?  " 

Beauchamp  had  not  noticed  them. 

Palmet  observed  that  he  should  not  have  noticed  any- 
thing else. 

"But  you  are  qualifying  for  the  Upper  House,"  Beau- 
champ said  in  the  tone  of  an  encomium. 

Palmet  accepted  the  statement.     "  Though  I  shall  never 


166  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

care  to  figure  before  peeresses,"  he  said.  "1  can't  tell  you 
why.  There  's  a  heavy  sprinkling  of  the  old  bird  among 
them.  It  is  n't  that.  There  's  too  much  plumage  ;  I  think 
it  must  be  that.  A  cloud  of  millinery  shoots  me  off  a  mile 
from  a  woman.  In  my  opinion,  witches  are  the  only  ones 
for  wearing  jewels  without  chilling  the  feminine  atmosphere 
about  them.  Fellows  think  differently."  Lord  Palmet 
waved  a  hand  expressive  of  purely  amiable  tolerance,  for 
this  question  upon  the  most  important  topic  of  human 
affairs  was  deep,  and  no  judgement  should  be  hasty  in  set- 
tling it.  "  I  'm  peculiar,"  he  resumed.  "  A  rose  and  a  string 
of  pearls :  a  woman  who  goes  beyond  that 's  in  danger  of 
petrifying  herself  and  her  fellow  man.  Two  women  in 
Paris,  last  winter,  set  us  on  fire  with  pale  thin  gold  orna- 
ments —  neck,  wrists,  ears,  ruche,  skirts,  all  in  a  flutter,  and 
so  were  you.  But  you  felt  witchcraft.  'The  magical 
Orient,'  Vivian  Ducie  called  the  blonde,  and  the  dark 
beauty,  '  Young  Endor.'  " 

"  Her  name  ?  "  said  Beauchamp. 

"  A  marquis ;  I  forget  her  name.  The  other  was  Countess 
Rastaglione ;  you  must  have  heard  of  her;  a  towering 
witch,  an  empress,  Helen  of  Troy ;  though  Ducie  would 
have  it  the  brunette  was  Queen  of  Paris.  For  French  taste, 
if  you  like." 

Countess  Bastaglione  was  a  lady  enamelled  on  the  scroll 
of  Fame.  "  Did  you  see  them  together  ?  "  said  Beauchamp. 
"  They  were  n't  together  ?  " 

Palmet  looked  at  him  and  laughed.  "  You  're  yourself 
again,  are  you  ?  Go  to  Paris  in  January,  and  cut  out  the 
Frenchmen." 

"  Answer  me,  Palmet :  they  were  n't  in  couples  ?  " 

"  I  fancy  not.  It  was  luck  to  meet  them,  so  they  could  n't 
have  been." 

"  Did  you  dance  with  either  of  them  ?  " 

Unable  to  state  accurately  that  he  had,  Palmet  cried, 
"  Oh !  for  dancing,  the  Frenchwoman  beat  the  Italian." 

"  Did  you  see  her  often  —  more  than  once  ?  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  went  everywhere  to  see  her :  balls, 
theatres,  promenades,  rides,  churches." 

"  And  you  say  she  dressed  up  to  the  Italian,  to  challenge 
her,  rival  her  ?  " 


LOED  PALISIET  157 

"  Only  one  night ;  simple  accident.  Everybody  noticed 
it,  for  they  stood  for  Night  and  Day,  —  both  hung  with 
gold ;  the  brunette  Etruscan,  and  the  blonde  Asiatic  ;  and 
every  Frenchman  present  was  epigramizing  up  and  down  the 
rooms  like  mad." 

"Her  husband  's  Legitimist ;  he  wouldn't  be  at  the  Tui- 
leries  ?  "     Beauchamp  spoke  half  to  himself. 

"  What,  then,  what  ? ''  Palmet  stared  and  chuckled. 
"  Her  husband  must  have  taken  the  Tuileries'  bait,  if  we 
mean  the  same  woman.  My  dear  old  Beauchamp,  have  I 
seen  her,  then  ?  She 's  a  darling  !  The  E-astaglione  was 
nothing  to  her.  When  you  do  light  on  a  grand  smoky  pearl, 
the  milky  ones  may  go  and  decorate  plaster.  That 's  what 
I  say  of  the  loveliest  brunettes.  It  must  be  the  same  :  there 
can't  be  a  couple  of  dark  beauties  in  Paris  without  a  noise 
about  them.  Marquise  —  ?  I  shall  recollect  her  name 
presently." 

"  Here  's  one  of  the  houses  I  stop  at,"  said  Beauchamp, 
"and  drop  that  subject." 

A  scared  servant-girl  brought  out  her  wizened  mistress  to 
confront  the  candidate,  and  to  this  representative  of  the  sex 
he  addressed  his  arts  of  persuasion,  requesting  her  to  repeat 
his  words  to  her  husband.  The  contrast  between  Beauchamp 
palpably  canvassing  and  the  Beauchamp  who  was  the  lover 
of  the  Marquise  of  the  forgotten  name,  struck  too  powerfully 
on  Palmet  for  his  gravity :  he  retreated. 

Beauchamp  found  him  sauntering  on  the  pavement,  and 
would  have  dismissed  him  but  for  an  agreeable  diversion 
that  occurred  at  that  moment.  A  suavely  smiling  unctuous 
old  gentleman  advanced  to  them,  bowing,  and  presuming 
thus  far,  he  said,  under  the  supposition  that  he  was  ac- 
costing the  junior  Liberal  candidate  for  the  borough.  He 
announced  his  name  and  his  principles  :  Tomlinson,  pro- 
gressive Liberal. 

"  A  true  distinction  from  some  Liberals  I  know,"  said 
Beauchamp. 

Mr.  Tomlinson  hoped  so.  Never,  he  said,  did  he  leave  it 
to  the  man  of  his  choice  at  an  election  to  knock  at  his  door 
for  the  vote. 

Beauchamp  looked  as  if  he  had  swallowed  a  cordial. 
Votes  falling  into  his  lap  are  heavenly  gifts  to  the  candi' 


158  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

date  sick  of  the  knocker  and  the  bell.  Mr.  Tomlinson 
eulogized  the  manly  candour  of  the  junior  Liberal  candi- 
date's address,  in  which  he  professed  to  see  ideas  that 
distinguished  it  from  the  address  of  the  sound  but  other- 
wise conventional  Liberal,  Mr.  Cougham.  He  muttered  of 
plumping  for  Beauchamp.  "Don't  plump,"  Beauchamp 
said ;  and  a  candidate,  if  he  would  be  an  honourable  twin, 
must  say  it.  Cougham  had  cautioned  him  against  the 
heresy  of  plumping. 

They  discoursed  of  the  poor  and  their  beverages,  of  pot- 
houses, of  the  anti-liquorites,  and  of  the  duties  of  parsons, 
and  the  value  of  a  robust  and  right-minded  body  of  the  poor 
to  the  country.  Palmet  found  himself  following  them  into 
a  tolerably  spacious  house  that  he  took  to  be  the  old  gentle- 
man's until  some  of  the  apparatus  of  an  Institute  for 
literary  and  scientific  instruction  revealed  itself  to  him, 
and  he  heard  Mr.  Tomlinson  exalt  the  memory  of  one 
Wingham  for  the  blessing  bequeathed  by  him  to  the  town 
of  Bevisham.  "  For,"  said  Mr.  Tomlinson,  "  it  is  open  to 
both  sexes,  to  all  respectable  classes,  from  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing up  to  ten  at  night.  Such  a  place  affords  us,  I  would 
venture  to  say,  the  advantages  without  the  seductions  of 
a  Club.  I  rank  it  next  —  at  a  far  remove,  but  next  — 
the  church." 

Lord  Palmet  brought  his  eyes  down  from  the  busts  of 
certain  worthies  ranged  along  the  top  of  the  book-shelves 
to  the  cushioned  chairs,  and  murmured,  "Capital  place  for 
an  appointment  with  a  woman." 

Mr.  Tomlinson  gazed  up  at  him  mildly,  with  a  fallen 
countenance.  He  turned  sadly  agape  in  silence  to  the  busts, 
the  books,  and  the  range  of  scientific  instruments,  and 
directed  a  gaze  under  his  eyebrows  at  Beauchamp.  "  Does 
your  friend  canvass  with  you?"  he  inquired. 

"  I  want  him  to  taste  it,"  Beauchamp  replied,  and  imme- 
diately introduced  the  affable  young  lord  —  a  proceeding 
marked  by  some  of  the  dexterity  he  had  once  been  famous 
for,  as  was  shown  by  a  subsequent  observation  of  Mr. 
Tomlinson's. 

"Yes,"  he  ^aid,  on  the  question  of  classes,  *^yes,  I  fear 
we  have  classes  in  this  country  whose  habitual  levity  sharp 
experience  will  have  to  correct.     I  very  much  fear  it" 


LORD  PALIMET  159 

"But  if  you  have  classes  that  are  not  to  face  realities  — 
classes  that  look  on  them  from  the  box-seats  of  a  theatre," 
said  Beauchamp,  "how  can  you  expect  perfect  seriousness, 
or  any  good  service  whatever  ?  " 

"  Gently,  sir,  gently.  No ;  we  can,  I  feel  confident,  ex- 
pand within  the  limits  of  our  most  excellent  and  approved 
Constitution.     I  could  wish  that  socially  .  .  .  that  is  all." 

"  Socially  and  politically  mean  one  thing  in  the  end,"  said 
Beauchamp.  "If  you  have  a  nation  politically  corrupt,  you 
won't  have  a  good  state  of  morals  in  it,  and  the  laws 
that  keep  society  together  bear  upon  the  politics  of  a 
country." 

"  True ;  yes,"  Mr.  Tomlinson  hesitated  assent.  He  dis- 
sociated Beauchamp  from  Lord  Palmet,  but  felt  keenlj^  that 
the  latter's  presence  desecrated  Wingham's  Institute,  and 
he  informed  the  candidate  that  he  thought  he  would  no 
longer  detain  him  from  his  labours. 

"  Just  the  sort  of  place  wanted  in  every  provincial  town," 
Palmet  remarked  by  way  of  a  parting  compliment. 

Mr.  Tomlinson  bowed  a  civil  acknowledgment  of  his 
having  again  spoken. 

No  further  mention  was  made  of  the  miraculous  vote 
which  had  risen  responsive  to  the  candidate's  address  of  its 
own  inspired  motion;  so  Beauchamp  said,  "I  beg  you  to 
bear  in  mind  that  I  request  you  not  to  plump." 

"You  may  be  right,  Captain  Beauchamp.  Good  day, 
sir." 

Palmet  strode  after  Beauchamp  into  the  street. 

"  Why  did  you  set  me  bowing  to  that  old  boy  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  Why  did  you  talk  about  women  ?  "  was  the  rejoinder. 

"  Oh,  aha  !  "  Palmet  sang  to  himself.  "  You  're  a  Rom- 
frey,  Beauchamp.  A  blow  for  a  blow !  But  I  only  said 
what  would  strike  every  fellow  first  off.  It  is  the  place ; 
the  very  place.  Pastry-cooks'  shops  won't  stand  compari- 
son with  it.  Don't  tell  me  you  're  the  man  not  to  see  how 
much  a  woman  prefers  to  be  under  the  wing  of  science  and 
literature,  in  a  good-sized,  well-warmed  room,  with  a  book, 
instead  of  making  believe,  with  a  red  face,  over  a  tart." 

He  received  a  smart  lecture  from  Beauchamp,  and  began 
to  think  he  had  enough  of  canvassing.    But  he  was  not 


160  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

suffered  to  escape.  For  his  instruction,  for  his  positive 
and  extreme  good,  Beauchamp  determined  that  the  heir 
to  an  earldom  should  have  a  day's  lesson.  We  will  hope 
there  was  no  intention  to  punish  him  for  having  frozen 
the  genial  current  of  Mr.  Tomlinson's  vote  and  interest ; 
and  it  may  be  that  he  clung  to  one  who  had,  as  he  imagined, 
seen  Renee.  Accompanied  by  a  Mr.  Oggler,  a  tradesman 
of  the  town,  on  the  Liberal  committee,  dressed  in  a  pea- 
jacket  and  proudly  nautical,  they  applied  for  the  vote, 
and  found  it  oftener  than  beauty.  Palmet  contrasted  his 
repeated  disappointments  with  the  scoring  of  two,  three, 
four  and  more  in  the  candidate's  list,  and  informed  him 
that  he  would  certainly  get  the  Election.  "  I  think  you  're 
sure  of  it,"  he  said.  "  There  's  not  a  pretty  woman  to  be 
seen ;  not  one." 

One  came  up  to  them,  the  sight  of  whom  counselled  Lord 
Palmet  to  reconsider  his  verdict.  She  was  addressed  by 
Beauchamp  as  Miss  Denham,  and  soon  passed  on. 

Palmet  was  guilty  of  staring  at  her,  and  of  lingering  be- 
hind the  others  for  a  last  look  at  her. 

They  were  on  the  steps  of  a  voter's  house,  calmly  endur- 
ing a  rebuff  from  him  in  person,  when  Palmet  returned  to 
them,  exclaiming  effusively,  "  What  luck  you  have,  Beau- 
champ ! "  He  stopped  till  the  applicants  descended  the 
steps,  with  the  voice  of  the  voter  ringing  contempt  as  well 
as  refusal  in  their  ears  ;  then  continued  :  "  You  introduced 
me  neck  and  heels  to  that  undertakerly  old  Tomlinson,  of 
Wingham's  Institute  ;  you  might  have  given  me  a  chance 
with  that  Miss  —  Miss  Denham,  was  it  ?  She  has  a  bit  of 
a  style ! " 

"  She  has  a  head,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  A  girl  like  that  may  have  what  she  likes.  I  don't  care 
what  she  has  — there  's  woman  in  her.  You  might  take  her 
for  a  younger  sister  of  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux.  Who's 
the  uncle  she  speaks  of  ?  She  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to 
walk  out  by  herself." 

"  She  can  take  care  of  herself,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Palmet  denied  it.  "  No  woman  can.  Upon  my  honour, 
it 's  a  shame  that  she  should  be  out  alone.  What  are  her 
people  ?  I  '11  run  —  from  you,  you  know  —  and  see  her 
safe  home,    There  's  such  an  infernal  lot  of  fellgws  about  j 


LORD   PALJNIET  161 

and  a  girl  simply  bewitching  and  unprotected  !  I  ought  to 
be  after  her." 

Beauchamp  held  him  firmly  to  the  task  of  canvassing. 

"  Then  will  you  tell  me  where  she  lives  ?  "  Palmet  stipu- 
lated. He  reproached  Beauchamp  for  a  notorious  Grand 
Turk  exclusiveness  and  greediness  in  regard  to  women,  as 
well  as  a  disposition  to  run  hard  races  for  them  out  of  a 
spirit  of  pure  rivalry. 

^'  It 's  no  use  contradicting,  it 's  universally  known  of 
you,"  reiterated  Palmet.  "  I  could  name  a  dozen  women, 
and  dozens  of  fellows  you  deliberately  set  yourself  to  cut 
out,  for  the  honour  of  it.  What 's  that  story  they  tell  of 
you  in  one  of  the  American  cities  or  watering-places,  North 
or  South  ?  You  would  dance  at  a  ball  a  dozen  times  with 
a  girl  engaged  to  a  man  —  who  drenched  you  with  a  tum- 
bler at  the  hotel  bar,  and  off  you  all  marched  to  the  sands 
and  exchanged  shots  from  revolvers  ;  and  both  of  you,  they 
say,  saw  the  body  of  a  drowned  sailor  in  the  water,  in  the 
moonlight,  heaving  nearer  and  nearer,  and  you  stretched 
your  man  just  as  the  body  was  flung  up  by  a  wave  between 
you.     Picturesque,  if  you  like  !  " 

"  Dramatic,  certainly.  And  I  ran  away  with  the  bride 
next  morning  ? '' 

"  No  !  "  roared  Palmet ;  "  you  did  n't.  There  's  the 
cruelty  of  the  whole  affair." 

Beauchamp  laughed.  "  An  old  messmate  of  mine,  Lieu- 
tenant Jack  Wilmore,  can  give  you  a  different  version  of 
the  story.  I  never  have  fought  a  duel,  and  never  will. 
Here  we  are  at  the  shop  of  a  tough  voter,  Mr.  Oggler.  So 
it  says  in  my  note-book.  Shall  we  put  Lord  Palmet  to 
speak  to  him  first  ?  '' 

"  If  his  lordship  will  put  his  heart  into  what  he  says," 
Mr.  Oggler  bowed.  "  Are  you  for  giving  the  people  recrea- 
tion on  a  Sunday,  my  lord  ?  " 

"  Trap-bat  and  ball,  cricket,  dancing,  military  bands, 
puppet-shows,  theatres,  merry-go-rounds,  bosky  dells  — 
anything  to  make  them  happy,"  said  Palmet. 

"Oh,  dear!  then  I  'm  afraid  we  cannot  ask  you  to  speak 
to  this  Mr.  Carpendike."     Oggler  shook  his  head. 

"  Does  the  fellow  want  the  people  to  be  miserable  ?  " 

"  I  'ra  afraid;  my  lord,  he  would  rather  se^-  them  miserable." 

11 


162  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

They  introduced  themselves  to  Mr.  Carpendike  in  his 
shop.  He  was  a  fiat-chested,  sallow  young  shoemaker, 
with  a  shelving  forehead,  who  seeing  three  gentlemen 
enter  to  him  recognized  at  once  with  a  practised  resigna- 
tion that  they  had  not  come  to  order  shoe-leather,  though 
he  would  fain  have  shod  them,  being  needy ;  but  it  was  not 
the  design  of  Providence  that  they  should  so  come  as  he  in 
his  blindness  would  have  had  them.  Admitting  this  he 
wished  for  nothing. 

The  battle  with  Carpendike  lasted  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  during  which  he  was  chiefly  and  most  effectively 
silent.  Carpendike  would  not  vote  for  a  man  that  pro- 
posed to  open  museums  on  the  Sabbath  day.  The  striking 
simile  of  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge  was  recurred  to  by  him 
for  a  damning  illustration.  Captain  Beauchamp  might  be 
honest  in  putting  his  mind  on  most  questions  in  his  address, 
when  there  was  no  demand  upon  him  to  do  it  ;  but  honesty 
was  no  antidote  to  impiety.     Thus  Carpendike. 

As  to  Sunday  museuming  being  an  antidote  to  the  pot- 
house —  no.  For  the  people  knew  the  frequenting  of  the 
pothouse  to  be  a  vice ;  it  was  a  temptation  of  Satan  that 
often  in  overcoming  them  was  the  cause  of  their  flying  back 
to  grace :  whereas  museums  and  picture  galleries  were 
insidious  attractions  cloaked  by  the  name  of  virtue, 
whereby  they  were  allured  to  abandon  worship. 

Beauchamp   flew   at  this  young   monster  of  unreason: 

"  But  the  people  are  not  worshipping ;  they  are  idling 
and  sotting,  and  if  you  carry  your  despotism  farther  still, 
and  shut  them  out  of  every  shop  on  Sundays,  do  you  suppose 
you  promote  the  spirit  of  worship  ?  Tf  you  don't  revolt 
them,  you  unman  them,  and  I  warn  you  we  can't  afford  to 
destroy  what  manhood  remains  to  us  in  England.  Look  at 
the  facts." 

He  flung  the  facts  at  Carpendike  with  the  natural  exag- 
geration of  them  which  eloquence  produces,  rather,  as  a 
rule,  to  assure  itself  in  passing  of  the  overwhelming!  jus- 
tice of  the  cause  it  pleads  than  to  deceive  the  adversary. 
Brewers'  beer  and  publicans'  beer,  wife-beatings,  the  homes 
and  the  blood  of  the  people,  were  matters  reviewed  to  the 
cqnfusion  of  Sabbatarians. 

Carpendike  listened  with  a  bent  head,  upraised  eyes,  and 


LORD   PALMET  163 

brows  wrinkling  far  on  to  his  poll :  a  picture  of  a  mind 
entrenched  beyond  the  potentialities  of  mortal  assault.  He 
signified  that  he  had  spoken.  Indeed  Beauchamp's  reply 
was  vain  to  one  whose  argument  was  that  he  considered  the 
people  nearer  to  holiness  in  the  indulging  of  an  evil  pro- 
pensity than  in  satisfying  a  harmless  curiosity  and  getting 
a  recreation.  The  Sabbath  claimed  them ;  if  they  were  dis- 
obedient, Sin  ultimately  might  scourge  them  back  to  the 
fold,  but  never  if  they  were  permitted  to  regard  them- 
selves as  innocent  in  their  backsliding  and  rebelliousness. 

Such  language  was  quite  new  to  Beauchamp.  The  par- 
sons he  had  spoken  to  were  of  one  voice  in  objecting  to  the 
pothouse.  He  appealed  to  Carpendike's  humanity.  Car- 
pendike  smote  him  with  a  text  from  Scripture. 

"  Devilish  cold  in  this  shop,"  muttered  Palmet. 

Two  not  flourishing  little  children  of  the  emaciated 
Puritan  burst  into  the  shop,  followed  by  their  mother, 
carrying  a  child  in  her  arms.  She  had  a  sad  look,  upon 
traces  of  a^past  fairness,  vaguely  like  a  snow  landscape  in 
the  thaw.  Palmet  stooped  to  toss  shillings  with  her  young 
ones,  that  he  might  avoid  the  woman's  face.  It  cramped 
his  heart. 

"Don't  you  see,  Mr.  Carpendike,"  said  fat  Mr.  Oggler, 
"  it 's  the  happiness  of  the  people  we  want ;  that 's  what 
Captain  Beauchamp  works  for  —  their  happiness  ;  that 's 
the  aim  of  life  for  all  of  us.  Look  at  me !  I  'm  as  happy 
as  the  day,  I  pray  every  night,  and  I  go  to  church  every 
Sunday,  and  I  never  know  what  it  is  to  be  unhappy.  The 
Lord  has  blessed  me  with  a  good  digestion,  healthy  pious 
children,  and  a  prosperous  shop  that's  a  competency — a 
modest  one,  but  I  make  it  satisfy  me,  because  I  know  it 's 
the  Lord's  gift.  Well,  now,  and  I  hate  Sabbath-breakers ; 
I  would  punish  them ;  and  I  'm  against  the  public-houses 
on  a  Sunday ;  but  aboard  my  little  yacht,  say  on  a  Sunday 
morning  in  the  Channel,  I  don't  forget  I  owe  it  to  the  Lord 
that  he  has  been  good  enough  to  put  me  in  the  way  of 
keeping  a  yacht ;  no  ;  I  read  prayers  to  my  crew,  and  a 
chapter  in  the  Bible  —  Genesis,  Deuteronomy,  Kings,  Acts, 
Paul,  just  as  it  comes.  All 's  good  that 's  there.  Then 
we  're  free  for  the  day !  man,  boy,  and  me ;  we  cook  our 
victuals,  and  we  mitrst  look  to  the  yacht,  do  you  see.    But 


164  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

we  've  made  our  peace  with  the  Almighty.  We  know  that. 
He  don't  mind  the  working  of  the  vessel  so  long  as  we  've 
remembered  him.  He  put  us  in  that  situation,  exactly 
there,  latitude  and  longitude,  do  you  see,  and  work  the 
vessel  we  must.  And  a  glass  of  grog  and  a  pipe  after 
dinner  can't  be  any  offence.  And  I  tell  you,  honestly  and 
sincerely,  I  'm  sure  my  conscience  is  good,  and  I  really  and 
truly  don't  know  what  it  is  not  to  know  happiness." 

"  Then  you  don't  know  God,"  said  Carpendike,  like  a  voice 
from  a  cave. 

"  Or  nature  :  or  the  state  of  the  world,"  said  Beauchamp, 
singularly  impressed  to  find  himself  between  two  men,  of 
whom  —  each  perforce  of  his  tenuity  and  the  evident  lean- 
ing of  his  appetites  —  one  was  for  the  barren  black  view  of 
existence,  the  other  for  the  fantastically  bright.  As  to  the 
men  personally,  he  chose  Carpendike,  for  all  his  obstinacy 
and  sourness.  Oggler's  genial  piety  made  him  shrink  with 
nausea. 

But  Lord  Palmet  paid  Mr.  Oggler  a  memorable  compli- 
ment, by  assuring  him  that  he  was  altogether  of  his  way  of 
thinking  about  happiness. 

The  frank  young  nobleman  did  not  withhold  a  reference 
to  the  two  or  three  things  essential  to  his  happiness ;  other- 
wise Mr.  Oggler  might  have  been  pleased  and  flattered. 

Before  quitting  the  shop,  Beauchamp  warned  Carpendike 
that  he  should  come  again.  "  Vote  or  no  vote,  you  're  worth 
the  trial.  Texts  as  many  as  you  like.  I  '11  make  your  faith 
active,  if  it 's  alive  at  all.  You  speak  of  the  Lord  loving  his 
own ;  you  make  out  the  Lord  to  be  your  own,  and  use  your 
religion  like  a  drug.  So  it  appears  to  me.  That  Sunday 
tyranny  of  yours  has  to  be  defended.  Eemember  that ;  for 
I  for  one  shall  combat  it  and  expose  it.     Good  day." 

Beauchamp  continued,  in  the  street :  "  Tyrannies  like  this 
fellow's  have  made  the  English  the  dullest  and  wretchedest 
people  in  Europe." 

Palmet  animadverted  on  Carpendike :  "  The  dog  looks 
like  a  deadly  fungus  that  has  poisoned  the  woman." 

"I'd  trust  him  with  a  post  of  danger,  though,"  said 
Beauchamp. 

Before  the  candidate  had  opened  his  mouth  to  the  next 
elector  be  was   beamed  on,    M^Gilliper,  baker,  a  floured 


LOED  PALMET  166 

brick  face,  leaned  on  folded  arms  across  his  counter  and 
said,  in  Scotch:  "My  vote?  and  he  that  asks  me  for  my 
vote  is  the  man  who,  when  he  was  midshipman,  saved  the 
life  of  a  relation  of  mine  from  death  by  drowning !  —  my 
wife's  first  cousin,  Johnny  Brownson  —  and  held  him  up 
four  to  five  minutes  in  the  water,  and  never  left  him  till 
he  was  out  of  danger !  There  's  my  hand  on  it,  I  will,  and  a 
score  of  householders  in  Bevisham  the  same."  He  dictated 
precious  names  and  addresses  to  Beauchamp,  and  was  curtly 
thanked  for  his  pains. 

Such  treatment  of  a  favourable  voter  seemed  odd  to 
Palmet. 

"  Oh,  a  vote  given  for  reasons  of  sentiment ! "  Beauchamp 
interjected. 

Palmet  reflected  and  said :  "  Well,  perhaps  that 's  how  it 
is  women  don't  care  uncommonly  for  the  men  who  love 
them,  though  they  like  precious  well  to  be  loved.  Opposi- 
tion does  it." 

"  You  have  discovered  my  likeness  to  women,"  said  Beau- 
champ, eyeing  him  critically,  and  then  thinking,  with  a 
sudden  warmth,  that  he  had  seen  Eenee:  "Look  here, 
Palmet,  you  *re  too  late  for  Itchincope,  to-day ;  come  and 
eat  fish  and  meat  with  me  at  my  hotel,  and  come  to  a  meet- 
ing after  it.  You  can  run  by  rail  to  Itchincope  to  break- 
fast in  the  morning,  and  I  may  come  with  you.  You'll 
hear  one  or  two  men  speak  well  to-night." 

"I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  be  at  this  business  myself 
some  day,"  sighed  Palmet.  "  Any  women  on  the  platform  ? 
Oh,  but  political  women  !  And  the  Tories  get  the  pick  of 
the  women.  No,  I  don't  think  I  '11  stay.  Yes,  I  will ;  I  '11 
go  through  with  it.  I  like  to  be  learning  something.  You 
would  n't  think  it  of  me,  Beauchamp,  but  I  envy  fellows  at 
work." 

"  You  might  make  a  speech  for  me,  Palmet." 

"  No  man  better,  my  dear  fellow,  if  it  were  proposing  a 
toast  to  the  poor  devils  and  asking  them  to  drink  it.  But  a 
dry  speech,  like  leading  them  over  the  desert  without  a  well 
to  cheer  them  —  no  oasis,  as  we  used  to  call  a  five-pound 
note  and  a  holiday  —  I  have  n't  tlie  heart  for  that.  Is  your 
Miss  Denham  a  Radical  ?  " 

Beauchamp  asserted  that  he  had  not  yet  met  a  woman  at 


166  BEAtJOHAMP's  CAEEER 

all  inclining  in  the  direction  of  Kadicalism.  "  I  don't  call 
furies  Radicals.  There  may  be  women  who  think  as  well 
as  feel;  I  don't  know  them." 

"Lots  of  them,  Beauchamp.  Take  my  word  for  it.  I  do 
know  women.  They  have  n't  a  shift,  nor  a  trick,  I  don't 
know.  They're  as  clear  to  me  as  glass.  I'll  wager  your 
Miss  Denham  goes  to  the  meetings.  Now,  does  n't  she  ?  Of 
course  she  does.  And  there  could  n't  be  a  gallanter  way  of 
spending  an  evening,  so  I  '11  try  it.  Nothing  to  repent  of 
next  morning !  That  *s  to  be  said  for  politics,  Beauchamp, 
and  I  confess  I  'm  rather  jealous  of  you.  A  thoroughly  good- 
looking  girl  who  takes  to  a  fellow  for  what  he 's  doing  in  the 
world,  must  have  ideas  of  him  precious  different  from  the 
adoration  of  six  feet  three  and  a  fine  seat  in  the  saddle.  I 
see  that.  There  's  Baskelett  in  the  Blues ;  and  if  I  were  he 
I  should  detest  my  cuirass  and  helmet,  for  if  he  's  half  as 
successful  as  he  boasts  —  it  *s  the  uniform." 

Two  notorious  Radicals,  Peter  Molyneux  and  Samuel 
Killick,  were  called  on.  The  first  saw  Beauchamp  and  re- 
fused him ;  the  second  declined  to  see  him.  He  was  amazed 
and  staggered,  but  said  little. 

Among  the  remainder  of  the  electors  of  Bevisham,  roused 
that  day  to  a  sense  of  their  independence  by  the  summons 
of  the  candidates,  only  one  man  made  himself  conspicuous, 
by  premising  that  he  had  two  important  questions  to  ask, 
and  he  trusted  Commander  Beauchamp  to  answer  them  un- 
reservedly. They  were :  first,  What  is  a  French  Mar- 
quees ?  and  second  :  Who  was  Eurydicey  ? 

Beauchamp  referred  him  to  the  Tory  camp,  whence  the 
placard  alluding  to  those  ladies  had  issued. 

^'  Both  of  them  's  ladies !    I  guessed  it,"  said  the  elector. 

"Did  you  guess  that  one  of  them  is  a  mythological 
lady?" 

"  I  'm  not  far  wrong  in  guessing  t'  other 's  not  much  better, 
I  reckon.  Now,  sir,  may  I  ask  you,  is  there  any  tale  con- 
cerning your  morals  ?  " 

"  No  :  you  may  not  ask ;  you  take  a  liberty." 

"  Then  I  '11  take  the  liberty  to  postpone  talking  about  my 
vote.  Look  here,  Mr.  Commander;  if  the  upper  classes 
want  anything  of  me  and  come  to  me  for  it,  I  '11  know  what 
sort  of  an  example  they  're  setting ;  now  that 's  me." 


LORD  PALMET  167 

"  You  pay  attention  to  a  stupid  Tory  squib  ?  " 

**  Where  there  ^s  smoke  there  's  fire,  sir." 

Beauchamp  glanced  at  his  note-book  for  the  name  of  this 
man,  who  was  a  ragman  and  dustman. 

"  My  private  character  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
my  politics,"  he  said,  and  had  barely  said  it  when  he  remem- 
bered having  spoken  somewhat  differently,  upon  the  abstract 
consideration  of  the  case,  to  Mr.  Tomlinson.  "  You  're  quite 
welcome  to  examine  my  character  for  yourself,  only  I  don't 
consent  to  be  catechized.     Understand  that." 

"You  quite  understand  that,  Mr.  Tripehallow,"  said 
Oggler,  bolder  in  taking  up  the  strange  name  than  Beau- 
champ  had  been. 

"  I  understand  that.  But  you  understand,  there 's  never 
been  a  word  against  the  morals  of  Mr.  Cougham.  Here 's 
the  point :  Do  we  mean  to  be  a  moral  country  ?  Very  well, 
then  so  let  our  representatives  be,  I  say.  And  if  I  hear 
nothing  against  your  morals,  Mr.  Commander,  I  don't  say 
you  sha'n't  have  my  vote.  I  mean  to  deliberate.  You  young 
nobs  capering  over  our  heads  —  I  nail  you  down  to  morals. 
Politics  secondary.  Adew,  as  the  dying  spirit  remarked  to 
weeping  friends." 

"  Au  revoir  —  would  have  been  kinder,"  said  Palmet. 

Mr.  Tripehallow  smiled  roguishly,  to  betoken  compre- 
hension. 

Beauchamp  asked  Mr.  Oggler  whether  that  fellow  was  to 
be  taken  for  a  humourist  or  a  five-pound-note  man. 

"  It  may  be  both,  sir.  I  know  he 's  called  Morality 
Joseph." 

An  all  but  acknowledged  five-pound-note  man  was  the 
last  they  visited.  He  cut  short  the  preliminaries  of  the 
interview  by  saying  that  he  was  a  four-o'clock  man ;  i.  e. 
the  man  who  waited  for  the  final  bids  to  him  upon  the  clos- 
ing hour  of  the  election  day. 

"  Not  one  farthing ! "  said  Beauchamp,  having  been 
warned  beforehand  of  the  signification  of  the  phrase  by  his 
canvassing  lieutenant. 

"  Then  you  're  nowhere,"  the  honest  fellow  replied  in  the 
mystic  tongue  of  prophecy. 

Palmet  and  Beauchamp  went  to  their  fish  and  meat; 
smoked  a  cigarette  or  two  afterward,  conjured  away  the 


168  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

smell  of  tobacco  from  their  persons  as  well  as  they  could, 
and  betook  themselves  to  the  assembly-room  of  the  Liberal 
party,  where  the  young  lord  had  an  opportunity  of  beholding 
Mr.  Cougham,  and  of  listening  to  him  for  an  hour  and  forty 
minutes.  He  heard  Mr.  Timothy  Turbot  likewise.  And 
Miss  Denham  was  present.  Lord  Palmet  applauded  when 
she  smiled.  When  she  looked  attentive  he  was  deeply 
studious.  Her  expression  of  fatigue  under  the  sonorous 
ring  of  statistics  poured  out  from  Cougham  was  translated 
by  Palmet  into  yawns  and  sighs  of  a  profoundly  fraternal 
sympathy.  Her  face  quickened  on  the  rising  of  Beauchamp 
to  speak.  She  kept  eye  on  him  all  the  while,  as  Palmet, 
with  the  skill  of  an  adept  in  disguising  his  petty  larceny  of 
the  optics,  did  on  her.  Twice  or  thrice  she  looked  pained : 
Beauchamp  was  hesitating  for  the  word.  Once  she  looked 
startled  and  shut  her  eyes  :  a  hiss  had  sounded;  Beauchamp 
sprang  on  it  as  if  enlivened  by  hostility,  and  dominated  the 
factious  note.  Thereat  she  turned  to  a  gentleman  sitting 
beside  her ;  apparently  they  agreed  that  some  incident  had 
occurred  characteristic  of  Nevil  Beauchamp ;  for  whom, 
however,  it  was  not  a  brilliant  evening.  He  was  very  well 
able  to  account  for  it,  and  did  so,  after  he  had  walked  a  few 
steps  with  Miss  Denham  on  her  homeward  way. 

"  You  heard  Cougham,  Palmet !  He  's  my  senior,  and 
I  *m  obliged  to  come  second  to  him,  and.  how  am  I  to  have 
a  chance  when  he  has  drenched  the  audience  for  close  upon 
a  couple  of  hours  ! " 

Palmet  mimicked  the  manner  of  Cougham. 

"They  cry  for  Turbot  naturally;  they  want  a  relief," 
Beauchamp  groaned. 

Palmet  gave  an  imitation  of  Timothy  Turbot. 

He  was  an  admirable  mimic,  perfectly  spontaneous, 
without  stressing  any  points,  and  Beauchamp  was  pro- 
voked to  laugh  his  discontentment  with  the  evening  out  of 
recollection. 

But  a  grave  matter  troubled  Palmet's  head. 

"Who  was  that  fellow  who  walked  off  with  Miss 
Denham  ?  " 

"A  married  man,"  said  Beauchamp:  "badly  married; 
more 's  the  pity;  he  has  a  wife  in  the  madhouse.  His 
name  is  Lydiard." 


LORD  PALMET  169 

"  Not  her  brother !     Where 's  her  uncle  ?  " 

"  She  won't  let  him  come  to  these  meetings.  It 's  her 
idea ;  well  intended,  but  wrong,  I  think.  She  's  afraid  that 
Dr.  Shrapnel  will  alarm  the  moderate  Liberals  and  damage 
Radical  me." 

Palmet  muttered  between  his  teeth,  "  What  queer  things 
they  let  their  women  do ! "  He  felt  compelled  to  say, 
"  Odd  for  her  to  be  walking  home  at  night  with  a  fellow 
like  that." 

It  chimed  too  consonantly  with  a  feeling  of  Beauchamp's, 
to  repress  which  he  replied :  "  Your  ideas  about  women  are 
simply  barbarous,  Palmet.  Why  should  n't  she  ?  Her 
uncle  places  his  confidence  in  the  man,  and  in  her.  Is  n't 
that  better  —  ten  times  more  likely  to  call  out  the  sense  of 
honour  and  loyalty,  than  the  distrust  and  the  scandal  going 
on  in  your  class  ?  " 

"  Please  to  say  yours  too." 

"  I  've  no  class.  I  say  that  the  education  for  women  is 
to  teach  them  to  rely  on  themselves." 

"  Ah !  well,  I  don't  object,  if  I  'm  the  man." 

"  Because  you  and  your  set  are  absolutely  uncivilized  in 
your  views  of  women." 

"  Common  sense,  Beauchamp  ! " 

"Prey.  You  eye  them  as  prey.  And  it  comes  of  an 
idle  aristocracy.  You  have  no  faith  in  them,  and  they 
repay  you  for  your  suspicion." 

"  All  the  same,  Beauchamp,  she  ought  not  to  be  allowed 
to  go  about  at  night  with  that  fellow.  ^  Eich  and  rare  were 
the  gems  she  wore : '  but  that  was  in  Erin's  isle,  and  if  we 
knew  the  whole  history,  she  'd  better  have  stopped  at  home. 
She  's  marvellously  pretty,  to  my  mind.  She  looks  a  high- 
bred wench.  Odd  it  is,  Beauchamp,  to  see  a  lady's-maid 
now  and  then  catch  the  style  of  my  lady.  No,  by  Jove ! 
I  've  known  one  or  two  —  you  could  n't  tell  the  difference ! 
Not  till  you  were  intimate.  I  know  one  would  walk  a 
minuet  with  a  duchess.  Of  course  —  all  the  worse  for  her. 
If  you  see  that  uncle  of  Miss  Denham's  —  upon  my  honour, 
I  should  advise  him :  I  mean,  counsel  him  not  to  trust  her 
with  any  fellow  but  you." 

Beauchamp  asked  Lord  Palmet  how  old  he  was. 

Palmet  gave  his  age  j  correcting  the  figures  from  six-and- 


170  beaucha:mp's  cakeer 

twenty  to  one  year  more.  "  And  never  did  a  stroke  of  work 
in  my  life,"  he  said,  speaking  genially  out  of  an  acute  guess 
at  the  sentiments  of  the  man  he  walked  with. 

It  seemed  a  farcical  state  of  things. 

There  was  a  kind  of  contrition  in  Palmet's  voice,  and  to 
put  him  at  his  ease,  as  well  as  to  stamp  something  in  his 
own  mind,  Beauchamp  said,  "It's  common  enough." 


CHAPTER  XX 

A    DAY    AT    ITCHINCOPE 


An  election  in  Bevisham  was  always  an  exciting  period 
at  Itchincope,  the  large  and  influential  old  estate  of  the 
Lespels,  which  at  one  time,  with  but  a  ceremonious  drive 
through  the  town,  sent  you  two  good  Whig  men  to  Parlia- 
ment to  sit  at  Reform  banquets ;  two  unswerving  party 
men,  blest  subscribers  to  the  right  Review,  and  personally 
proud  pf  its  trenchancy.  Mr.  Grancey  Lespel  was  the  sur- 
vivor df  them,  and  well  could  he  remember  the  happier  day 
of  his  grandfather,  his  father,  and  his  own  hot  youth.  He 
could  be  carried  so  far  by  affectionate  regrets  as  to  think  of 
the  Tories  of  that  day  benignly :  —  when  his  champion 
Review  of  the  orange  and  blue  livery  waved  a  wondrous  sharp 
knife,  and  stuck  and  bled  them,  proving  to  his  party,  by 
trenchancy  alone,  that  the  Whig  was  the  cause  of  Providence. 
Then  politics  presented  you  a  table  whereat  two  parties 
feasted,  with  no  fear  of  the  intrusion  of  a  third,  and  your 
backs  were  turned  on  the  noisy  lower  world,  your  ears  were 
deaf  to  it. 

Apply  we  now  the  knocker  to  the  door  of  venerable 
Quotation,  and  call  the  aged  creature  forth,  that  he,  half 
choked  by  his  eheu !  — 

"  A  sound  between  a  sigh  and  bray," 

may  pronounce   the   familiar  but  respectable   words,  the 
burial-service  of  a  time  so  happy! 

Mr.  Grancey  Lespel  would  still  have  been  sitting  for 
Bevisham  (or  politely  at  this  elective  moment  bowing  to 


A  DAY  AT  ITCHINCOPE  171 

resume  the  seat)  had  not  those  Manchester  jugglers  caught 
up  his  cry,  appropriated  his  colours,  displaced  and  imper- 
sonated him,  acting  beneficent  Whig  on  a  scale  approach- 
ing treason  to  the  Constitution;  leaning  on  the  people  in 
earnest,  instead  of  taking  the  popular  shoulder  for  a  tempo- 
rary lift,  all  in  high  party  policy,  for  the  clever  manoeuvre, 
to  oust  the  Tory  and  sway  the  realm.  See  the  consequences. 
For  power,  for  no  other  consideration,  those  manufacturing 
rascals  have  raised  Radicalism  from  its  primaeval  mire  — 
from  its  petty  backslum  bookseller's  shop  and  public-house 
back-parlour  effluvia  of  oratory  —  to  issue  dictates  in  Eng- 
land, and  we,  England,  formerly  the  oak,  are  topsy-turvy, 
like  onions,  our  heels  in  the  air! 

The  language  of  party  is  eloquent,  and  famous  for  being 
grand  at  illustration ;  but  it  is  equally  well  known  that 
much  of  it  gives  us  humble  ideas  of  the  speaker,  probably 
because  of  the  naughty  temper  party  is  prone  to;  which, 
while  endowing  it  with  vehemence,  lessens  the  stout  cir- 
cumferential view  that  should  be  taken,  at  least  historically. 
Indeed,  though  we  admit  party  to  be  the  soundest  method 
for  conducting  us,  party  talk  soon  expends  its  attractiveness, 
as  would  a  summer's  afternoon  given  up  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  an  encounter  of  rams'  heads.  Let  us  be  quit  of  Mr. 
Grancey  Lespel's  lamentations.  The  Whig  gentleman  had 
some  reason  to  complain.  He  had  been  trained  to  expect 
no  other  attack  than  that  of  his  hereditary  adversary-ram 
in  front,  and  a  sham  ram  —  no  honest  animal,  but  a  ram- 
ming-engine  rather  —  had  attacked  him  in  the  rear.  Like 
Mr.  Everard  Romfrey  and  other  Whigs,  he  was  profoundly 
chagrined  by  popular  ingratitude  :  "  not  the  same  man,"  his 
wife  said  of  him.  It  nipped  him  early.  He  took  to  prov- 
erbs ;  sure  sign  of  the  sere  leaf  in  a  man's  mind. 

'His  wife  reproached  the  people  for  their  behaviour  to 
him  bitterly.  The  lady  regarded  politics  as  a  business  that 
helped  hunting-men  a  stage  above  sportsmen,  for  numbers 
of  the  politicians  she  was  acquainted  with  were  hunting- 
men,  yet  something  more  by  virtue  6f  the  variety  they 
could  introduce  into  a  conversation  ordinarily  treating  of 
sport  and  the  qualities  of  wines.  Her  husband  seemed  to 
have  lost  in  that  Parliamentary  seat  the  talisman  which 
gave  him  notions  distinguishing  him  from  country  squires  j 


172  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

he  had  sunk,  and  he  no  longer  cared  for  the  months  in 
London,  nor  for  the  speeches  she  read  to  him  to  re-awaken 
his  mind  and  make  him  look  out  of  himself,  as  he  had  done 
when  he  was  a  younger  man  and  not  a  suspended  Whig. 
Her  own  favourite  reading  was  of  love-adventures  written 
in  the  French  tongue.  She  had  once  been  in  love,  and 
could  be  so  sympathetic  with  that  passion  as  to  avow  to 
Cecilia  Halkett  a  tenderness  for  Nevil  Beauchamp,  on  ac- 
count of  his  relations  with  the  Marquise  de  Rouaillout,  and 
notwithstanding  the  demoniacal  flame-halo  of  the  Radical 
encircling  him. 

The  allusion  to  Beauchamp  occurred  a  few, hours  after 
Cecilia's  arrival  at  Itchincope. 

Cecilia  begged  for  the  French  lady's  name  to  be  repeated ; 
she  had  not  heard  it  before,  and  she  tasted  the  strange 
bitter  relish  of  realization  when  it  struck  her  ear  to  con- 
firm a  story  that  she  believed  indeed,  but  had  not  quite 
sensibly  felt. 

"  And  it  is  not  over  yet,  they  say,"  Mrs.  Grancey  Lespel 
added,  while  softly  flipping  some  spots  of  the  colour  proper 
to  radicals  in  morals  on  the  fame  of  the  French  lady.  She 
possessed  fully  the  grave  judicial  spirit  of  her  country- 
women, and  could  sit  in  judgement  on  the  personages  of 
tales  which  had  entranced  her,  to  condemn  the  heroines  :  it 
was  impolitic  in  her  sex  to  pity  females.  As  for  the  men  — 
poor  weak  things  !  As  for  Nevil  Beauchamp,  in  particular, 
his  case,  this  penetrating  lady  said,  was  clear :  he  ought  to 
be  married.  "  Could  you  make  a  sacrifice  ?  "  she  asked 
Cecilia  playfully. 

"  Nevil  Beauchamp  and  I  are  old  friends,  but  we  have 
agreed  that  we  are  deadly  political  enemies,"  Miss  Halkett 
replied. 

^'  It  is  not  so  bad  for  a  beginning,"  said  Mrs.  Lespel. 
"  If  one  were  disposed  to  martyrdom." 
The  older  woman  nodded.     "  Without  that." 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Lespel,  wait  till  you  have  heard  him.    He 
is  at  war  with  everything  we  venerate  and  build  on.     The 
wife  you  would  give  him  should  be  a  creature  rooted   in 
nothing  —  in  sea-water.    Simply  two  or  three  conversations 
with  him  have  made  me  uncomfortable  ever  since  ;  I  can 
see  nothing  durable ;  I  dream  of  surprises,  outbreaks,  dread- 


A  DAY   AT  ITCHINCOPE  173 

ful  events.  At  least  it  is  perfectly  true  that  I  do  not  look 
witli  the  same  eyes  on  my  country.  He  seems  to  delight  in 
destroying  one's  peaceful  contemplation  of  life.  The  truth 
is  that  he  blows  a  perpetual  gale,  and  is  all  agitation," 
Cecilia  concluded,  affecting  with  a  smile  a  slight  shiver. 

"  Yes,  one  tires  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Lespel.  "I  was  deter- 
mined I  would  have  him  here  if  we  could  get  him  to  come. 
Grancey  objected.  We  shall  have  to  manage  Captain  Beau- 
champ  and  the  rest  as  well.  He  is  sure  to  come  late  to- 
morrow, and  will  leave  early  on  Thursday  morning  for  his 
•canvass;  our  driving  into  Bevisham  is  for  Friday  or  Sat- 
urday. I  do  not  see  that  he  need  have  any  suspicions. 
Those  verses  you  are  so  angry  about  cannot  be  traced  to 
Itchincope.  My  dear,  they  are  a  childish  trifle.  When  my 
husband  stood  first  for  Bevisham,  the  whole  of  his  Univer- 
sity life  appeared  in  print.  What  we  have  to  do  is  to  fore- 
warn the  gentlemen  to  be  guarded,  and  especially  in  what 
they  say  to  my  nephew  Lord  Palmet,  for  that  boy  cannot 
keep  a  secret ;  he  is  as  open  as  a  plate." 

"  The  smoking-room  at  night  ?  "  Cecilia  suggested,  remem- 
bering her  father's  words  about  Itchincope's  tobacco-hall. 

"  They  have  Captain  Beauchamp's  address  hung  up  there, 
I  have  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Lespel.  "  There  may  be  other 
things  —  another  address,  though  it  is  not  yet  placarded. 
Come  with  me.  For  fifteen  years  I  have  never  once  put 
my  head  into  that  room,  and  now  I  We  a  superstitious  fear 
about  it." 

Mrs.  Lespel  led  the  way  to  the  deserted  smoking-room, 
■where  the  stale  reek  of  tobacco  assailed  the  ladies,  as  does 
[that  dire  place  of  Customs  the  stranger  visiting  savage  (or 
too-natural)  potentates. 

In  silence  they  tore  down  from  the  wall  Beauchamp's 
electoral  Address  —  flanked  all  its  length  with  satirical  pen 
and  pencil  comments  and  sketches  ;  and  they  consigned  to 
flames  the  vast  sheet  of  animated  verses  relating  to  the 
French  Marquees.  A  quarter-size  chalk-drawing  of  a 
slippered  pantaloon  having  a  duck  on  his  shoulder,  labelled 
to  say  "Quack-quack,"  and  offering  our  nauseated  Dame 
Britannia  (or  else  it  was  the  widow  Bevisham)  a  globe  of  a 
pill  to  swallow,  crossed  with  the  consolatory  and  reassuring 
name  of  Shra^nel^  they  disposed  of  likewise.    And  then 


174 

they  fled,  chased  forth  either  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  politi- 
cally allusive  epigrams  profusely  inscribed  around  them  on 
the  walls,  or  by  the  atmosphere.  Mrs.  Lespel  gave  her 
orders  for  the  walls  to  be  scraped,  and  said  to  Cecilia :  "  A 
strange  air  to  breathe,  was  it  not?  The  less  men  and 
women  know  ot  one  another,  the  happier  for  them.  I  knew 
my  superstition  was  correct  as  a  guide  to  me.  T  do  so 
much  wish  to  respect  men,  and  all  my  experience  tells  me 
the  Turks  know  best  how  to  preserve  it  for  us.  Two  men 
in  this  house  would  give  their  wives  for  pipes,  if  it  came  to 
the  choice.  We  might  all  go  for  a  cellar  of  old  wine.  After 
forty,  men  have  married  their  habits,  and  wives  are  only  an 
item  in  the  list,  and  not  the  most  important." 

With  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett,  Mrs.  Lespel 
prepared  the  house  and  those  of  the  company  who  were  in 
the  secret  of  affairs  for  the  arrival  of  Beauchamp.  The 
ladies  were  curious  to  see  him.  The  gentlemen,  not  antici- 
pating extreme  amusement,  were  calm  :  for  it  is  an  axiom 
in  the  world  of  buckskins  and  billiard-cues,  that  one  man  is 
very  like  another;  and  so  true  is  it  with  them,  that  they 
can  in  time  teach  it  to  the  fair  sex.  Friends  of  Cecil 
Baskelett  predominated,  and  the  absence  of  so  sprightly  a 
fellow  was  regretted  seriously ;  but  he  was  shooting  with 
his  uncle  at  Holdesbury,  and  they  did  not  expect  him  before 
Thursday. 

On  Wednesday  morning  Lord  Palmet  presented  himself 
at  a  remarkably  well-attended  breakfast-table  at  Itchincope. 
He  passed  from  Mrs.  Lespel  to  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux  and 
Miss  Halkett,  bowed  to  other  ladies,  shook  hands  with  two 
or  three  men,  and  nodded  over  the  heads  of  half-a-dozen, 
accounting  rather  mysteriously  for  his  delay  in  coming,  it 
was  thought,  until  he  sat  down  before  a  plate  of  Yorkshire 
pie,  and  said :  "  The  fact  is  I  've  been  canvassing  hard. 
With  Beauchamp ! " 

Astonishment  and  laughter  surrounded  him,  and  Palmet 
looked  from  face  to  face,  equally  astonished,  and  desirous^ 
to  laugh  too. 

"  Ernest !  how  could  you  do  that  ?  "  said  Mrs  Lespel ; 
and  her  husband  cried  in  stupefaction,  ^'  With  Beauchamp?  " 

"Oh  !  it's  because  of  the  Radicalism,"  Palmet  murmured 
to  himself.     "  I  did  n't  mind  that." 


A  DAY  AT  ITCHINCOPE  175 

"  What  sort  of  a  day  did  you  have  ?  "  Mr.  Culbrett  asked 
him ;  and  several  gentlemen  fell  upon  him  for  an  account 
of  the  day. 

Palmet  grimaced  over  a  mouthful  of  his  pie. 

"  Bad  !  "  quoth  Mr.  Lespel ;  "  I  knew  it.  I  know  Bevisham. 
The  only  chance  there  is  for  five  thousand  pounds  in  a  sack 
with  a  hole  in  it." 

"  Bad  for  Beauchamp  ?  Dear  me,  no  ;  "  Palmet  corrected 
-the  error.  "  He  is  carrying  all  before  him.  And  he  tells 
them,"  Palmet  mimicked  Beauchamp,  "  they  shall  not  have 
one  penny :  not  a  farthing.  I  gave  a  couple  of  young  ones 
a  shilling  apiece,  and  he  rowed  me  for  bribery ;  somehow  I 
did  wrong." 

Lord  Palmet  described  the  various  unearthly  characters 
he  had  inspected  in  their  dens :  Carpendike,  Tripehallow, 
and  the  radicals  Peter  Molyneux  and  Samuel  Killick,  and 
the  ex-member  for  the  borough,  Cougham,  posing  to  suit 
sign-boards  of  Liberal  inns,  with  a  hand  thrust  in  his  waist- 
coat, and  his  head  well  up,  the  eyes  running  over  the  under 
lids,  after  the  traditional  style  of  our  aristocracy ;  but 
perhaps  more  closely  resembling  an  urchin  on  tiptoe  peer- 
ing above  park-palings.  Cougham's  remark  to  Beauchamp, 
heard  and  repeated  by  Palmet  with  the  object  of  giving  an 
example  of  the  senior  Liberal's  phraseology :  "  I  was  neces- 
sitated to  vacate  my  town  mansion,  to  my  material  discom- 
fort and  that  of  my  wife,  whose  equipage  I  have  been 
compelled  to  take,  by  your  premature  canvass  of  the  bor- 
ough, Captain  Beauchamp  :  and  now,  I  hear,  on  undeniable 
authority,  that  no  second  opponent  to  us  will  be  forthcom- 
ing:"—  this  produced  the  greatest  effect  on  the  company. 

"  But  do  you  tell  me,"  said  Mr.  Lespel,  when  the  shouts 
of  the  gentlemen  were  subsiding,  "do  you  tell  me  that 
young  Beauchamp  is  going  ahead?" 

"  That  he  is.     They  flock  to  him  in  the  street." 

"  He  stands  there,  then,  and  jingles  a  money-bag." 

Palmet  resumed  his  mimicry  of  Beauchamp:  "Kot  a 
stiver  ;  purity  of  election  is  the  first  condition  of  instruction 
to  the  people  !  Principles !  Then  they  've  got  a  capital 
orator :  Turbot,  an  Irishman.  I  went  to  a  meeting  last 
night,  and  heard  him ;  never  heard  anything  finer  in  my 
life.    You  may  laugh  —  he  whipped  me  off  my  legs  ;  fellow 


176  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

spun  me  like  a  top  ;  and  while  he  was  orationing,  a  donkey 
calls,  ^  Turbot !  ain't  you  a  flat  fish  ? '  and  he  swings  round, 
'  i^ot  for  a  fool's  hook ! '  and  out  they  hustled  the  villain  for 
a  Tory.     I  never  saw  anything  like  it." 

*'  That  repartee  would  n't  have  done  with  a  Dutchman  or 
a  Torbay  trawler,"  said  Stukely  Culbrett.  "But  let  us 
hear  more." 

"Is  it  fair?"  Miss  Halkett  murmured  anxiously  to  Mrs. 
Lespel,  who  returned  a  flitting  shrug. 

"  Charming  women  follow  Beauchamp,  you  know,"  Palmet 
proceeded,  as  he  conceived,  to  confirm  and  heighten  the 
tale  of  success.  "  There 's  a  Miss  Denham,  niece  of  a  doc- 
tor, a  Dr.  .  .  .  Shot  —  Shrapnel !  a  wonderfully  good-look- 
ing, clever-looking  girl,  comes  across  him  in  half-a-dozen 
streets  to  ask  how  he  's  getting  on,  and  goes  every  night  to 
his  meetings,  with  a  man  who  *s  a  writer  and  has  a  mad 
wife  ;  a  man  named  Lydia  —  no,  that 's  a  woman  —  Lydiard. 
It 's  rather  a  jumble  ;  but  you  should  see  her  when  Beau- 
champ  's  on  his  legs  and  speaking." 

"Mr.  Lydiard  is  inBevisham?"  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux 
remarked. 

"  I  know  the  girl,"  growled  Mr.  Lespel.  "  She  comes 
with  that  rascally  doctor  and  a  bobtail  of  tea-drinking 
men  and  women  and  their  brats  to  North eden  Heath  — 
my  ground.     There  they  stand  and  sing." 

"Hymns?"   inquired  Mr,  Culbrett. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  sing.  And  when  it  rains  they 
take  the  liberty  to  step  over  my  bank  into  my  plantation. 
Some  day  I  shall  have  them  stepping  into  my  house." 

"  Yes,  it 's  Mr.  Lydiard ;  I  'm  sure  of  the  man's  name," 
Palmet  replied  to  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux. 

"We  met  him  in  Spain  the  year  before  last,"  she  ob- 
served to  Cecilia. 

The  *we'  reminded  Palmet  that  her  husband  was 
present. 

"  Ah,  Devereux,  I  did  n't  see  you,"  he  nodded  obliquely 
down  the  table.  "  By  the  way,  what 's  the  grand  proces- 
sion? I  hear  my  man  Davis  has  come  all  right,  and  I 
caught  sight  of  the  top  of  your  coach-box  in  the  stable-yard 
as  I  came  in.     What  are  we  up  to  ?  " 

"  Baskelett  writes,  it 's  to  be  for  to-morrow  morning  at 


A  DAY  AT  ITCHINCOPE  177 

ten — the  start.".  Mr.  Wardour-Devereux  addressed  the 
table  generally.  He  was  a  fair,  huge,  bush-bearded  man, 
with  a  voice  of  unvarying  bass  :  a  squire  in  his  county,  and 
energetic  in  his  pursuit  of  the  pleasures  of  hunting,  driving, 
travelling,  and  tobacco. 

"  Old  Bask 's  the  captain  of  us  ?  Very  well,  but  where 
do  we  drive  the  teams?  How  many  are  we?  What's 
in  hand?" 

Cecilia  threw  a  hurried  glance  at  her  hostess. 

Luckily  some  witling  said,  "  Fours-in-hand ! "  and  so 
drily  that  it  passed  for  humour,  and  gave  Mrs.  Lespel 
time  to  interpose.  "  You  are  not  to  know  till  to-morrow, 
Ernest." 

Palmet  had  traced  the  authorship  of  the  sally  to  Mr. 
Algy  Borolick,  and  crowned  him  with  praise  for  it.  He 
asked,  ^'  Why  not  know  till  to-morrow  ?  "  A  word  in  a 
murmur  from  Mr.  Culbrett,  "  Don't  frighten  the  women," 
satisfied  him,  though  why  it  should  he  could  not  have 
imagined. 

Mrs.  Lespel  quitted  the  breakfast-table  before  the  setting 
in  of  the  dangerous  five  minutes  of  conversation  over  its 
ruins,  and  spoke  to  her  husband,  who  contested  the  neces- 
sity for  secresy,  but  yielded  to  her  judgement  when  it  was 
backed  by  Stukely  Culbrett.  Soon  after  Lord  Palmet 
found  himself  encountered  by  evasions  and  witticisms,  in 
spite  of  the  absence  of  the  ladies,  upon  every  attempt  he 
made  to  get  some  light  regarding  the  destination  of  the 
lour-in-hands  next  day. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  he  said  to  Mr.  Devereux, 
thinking  him  the  likeliest  one  to  grow  confidential  in 
private. 

"  Smoke,"  resounded  from  the  depths  of  that  gentleman. 

Palmet  recollected  the  ground  of  division  between  the 
beautiful  brunette  and  her  lord — his  addiction  to  the  pipe 
in  perpetuity,  and  deemed  it  sweeter  to  be  with  the  lady. 

She  and  Miss  Halkett  were  walking  in  the  garden. 

Miss  Halkett  said  to  him :  "  How  wrong  of  you  to  betray 
the  secrets  of  your  friend !     Is  he  really  making  way  ?  " 

"Beauchamp  will  head  the  poll  to  a  certainty,"  Palmet 
replied. 

<<  Still,"  said  Miss  Halkett,  "  you  should  not  forget  that 

12 


178  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

you  are  not  in  the  house  of  a  Liberal.     Did  you  canvass  in 
the  town  or  the  suburbs  ?  " 

^'Everywhere.  I  assure  you,  Miss  Halkett,  there's  a 
feeling  for  Beauchamp — they're  in  love  with  him!" 

"He  promises  them  everything,  I  suppose?" 

"  Not  he.  And  the  odd  thing  is,  it  is  n't  the  Radicals  he 
catches.  He  won't  go  against  the  game  laws  for  them,  and 
he  won't  cut  down  army  and  navy.  So  the  Radicals  yell  at 
him.  One  confessed  he  had  sold  his  vote  for  five  pounds 
last  election :  *  you  shall  have  it  for  the  same,'  says  he, 
*for  you're  all  humbugs.'  Beauchamp  took  him  by  the 
throat  and  shook  him  —  metaphorically,  you  know.  But 
as  for  the  tradesmen,  he  's  their  hero  ;  bakers  especially." 

"  Mr.  Austin  may  be  right,  then  !  "  Cecilia  reflected  aloud. 

She  went  to  Mrs.  Lespel  to  repeat  what  she  had  extracted 
from  Palmet,  after  warning  the  latter  not,  in  common 
loyalty,  to  converse  about  his  canvass  with  Beauchamp. 

"  Did  you  speak  of  Mr.  Lydiard  as  Captain  Beauchamp's 
friend  ?  "  Mrs.  Devereux  inquired  of  him. 

"  Lydiard  ?  why,  he  was  the  man  who  made  off  with  that 
pretty  Miss  Denham,"  said  Palmet.  "I  have  the  greatest 
trouble  to  remember  them  all ;  but  it  was  not  a  day  wasted. 
Now  I  know  politics.  Shall  we  ride  or  walk  ?  You  will 
let  me  have  the  happiness  ?  I  'm  so  unlucky ;  I  rarely 
meet  you." 

"  You  will  bring  Captain  Beauchamp  to  me  the  moment 
he  comes  ?  " 

"  I  '11  bring  him.  Bring  him  ?  Nevil  Beauchamp  won't 
want  bringing." 

Mrs.  Devereux  smiled  with  some  pleasure. 

Grancey  Lespel,  followed  at  some  distance  by  Mr.  Fer- 
brass,  the  Tory  lawyer,  stepped  quickly  up  to  Palmet,  and 
asked  whether  Beauchamp  had  seen  Dollikins,  the  brewer. 

Palmet  could  recollect  the  name  of  one  Tomlinson,  and/ 
also  the  calling  at  a  brewery.  Moreover,  Beauchamp  had 
uttered  contempt  of  the  brewer's  business,  and  of  the  S9cial 
rule  to  accept  rich  brewers  for  gentlemen.  The  nlan'g 
name  might  be  Dollikins  and  not  Tomlinson,  and  if  so,  it 
was  Dollikins  who  would  not  see  Beauchamp.  To  preserve 
his  political  importance,  Palmet  said,  "Dollikins!  to  be 
sure,  that  was  the  man,"- 


A  DAY  AT  ITCHINCOPE  179 

"  Treats  him  as  he  does  you,"  Mr.  Lespel  turned  to  Fer- 
brass.  "  I  We  sent  to  Dollikins  to  come  to  me  this  morning, 
if  he's  not  driving  into  the  town.  I'll  have  him  before 
Beauchamp  sees  him.  I  've  asked  half-a-dozen  of  these 
country  gentlemen-tradesmen  to  lunch  at  my  table  to-day." 

^'  Then,  sir,"  observed  Ferbrass,  "if  they  are  men  to  be 
persuaded,  they  had  better  not  see  me." 

"  True  ;  they  're  my  old  supporters,  and  might  n't  like 
your  Tory  face,"  Mr.  Lespel  assented. 

Mr.  Ferbrass  congratulated  him  on  the  heartiness  of  his 
espousal  of  the  Tory  cause. 

Mr.  Lespel  winced  a  little,  and  told  him  not  to  put  his 
trust  in  that. 
■    "  Turned  Tory  ?  "  said  Palmet. 

Mr.  Lespel  declined  to  answer. 

Palmet  said  to  Mrs.  Devereux:  "He  thinks  I 'm  not 
worth  speaking  to  upon  politics.  Now  I  '11  give  him  some 
Beauchamp  ;  I  learned  lots  yesterday." 

"  Then  let  it  be  in  Captain  Beauchamp's  manner,"  said 
she  softly. 

Palmet  obeyed  her  commahds  with  the  liveliest  exhibition 
of  his  peculiar  faculty :  Cecilia,  rejoining  them,  seemed  to 
hear  Nevil  himself  in  his  emphatic  political  mood.  — 
"  Because  the  Whigs  are  defunct !  They  had  no  root  in  the 
people  !  Whig  is  the  name  of  a  tribe  that  was  !  You  have 
Tory,  Liberal,  and  Eadical.  There  is  no  place  for  Whig. 
He  is  played  out." 

"  Who  has  been  putting  that  nonsense  into  your  head  ?  " 
Mr.  Lespel  retorted.     "  Go  shooting,  go  shooting !  " 

Shots  were  heard  in  the  woods.  Palmet  pricked  up  his 
ears ;  but  he  was  taken  out  riding  to  act  cavalier  to  Mrs. 
Devereux  and  Miss  Halkett. 

Cecilia  corrected  his  enthusiasm  with  the  situation.  "  No 
flatteries  to-day.  There  are  hours  when  women  feel  their 
insignificance  and  helplessness.  I  begin  to  fear  for  Mr. 
Austin  ;  and  I  find  I  can  do  nothing  to  aid  him.  My  hands 
are  tied.  And  yet  I  know  I  could  win  voters  if  only  it 
were  permissible  for  me  to  go  and  speak  to  them." 

,  "Win  them  ! "  cried  Palmet,  imagining  the  alacrity  of 
men's  votes  to  be  won  by  her.  He  recommended  a  gallop 
for  the  chasing  away  of  melancholy,  and  as  they  were  on 


180  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAKEER 

the  Bevisham  high-road,  which  was  bordered  by  strips  of 
turf  and  heath,  a  few  good  stretches  brought  them  on  the  fir- 
heights,  commanding  views  of  the  town  and  broad  water. 

"  No,  I  cannot  enjoy  it,"  Cecilia  said  to  Mrs.  Devereux  ; 
"  I  don't  mind  the  grey  light ;  cloud  and  water,  and  half- 
tones of  colour,  are  homely  English  and  pleasant,  and  that 
opal  where  the  sun  should  be  has  a  suggestiveness  richer 
than  sunlight.  I  'm  quite  northern  enough  to  understand 
it ;  but  with  me  it  must  be  either  peace  or  strife,  and  that 
Election  down  there  destroys  my  chance  of  peace.  I  never 
could  mix  reverie  with  excitement ;  the  battle  must  be  over 
first,  and  the  dead  buried.     Can  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Devereux  answered  :  "  Excitement  ?  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  kno\^  what  it  is.     An  Election  does  not  excite  me." 

"  There  's  Nevil  Beauchamp  himself !  "  Palmet  sang  out, 
and  the  ladies  discerned  Beauchamp  under  a  fir-tree,  down 
by  the  road,  not  alone.  A  man,  increasing  in  length  like  a 
telescope  gradually  reaching  its  end  for  observation,  and 
coming  to  the  height  of  a  landmark,  as  if  raised  by  ropes, 
was  rising  from  the  ground  beside  him.  "  Shall  we  trot  on, 
MissHalkett?" 

Cecilia  said,  "No." 

"Now  I  see  a  third  fellow,"  said  Palmet.  "It's  the 
other  fellow,  the  Denham  —  Shrapnel  —  Radical  meeting 
.  .  .  Lydiard 's  his  name:  writes  books." 

"We  lAay  as  well  ride  on,"  Mrs.  Devereux  remarked, 
and  her  horse  fretted  singularly. 

Beauchamp  perceived  them,  and  lifted  his  hat.  Palmet 
made  demonstrations  for  the  ladies.  Still  neither  party 
moved  nearer. 

After  some  waiting,  Cecilia  proposed  to  turn  back. 

Mrs.  Devereux  looked  into  her  eyes.  "I'll  take  the 
lead,"  she  said,  and  started  forward,  pursued  by  Palmet. 
Cecilia  followed  at  a  sullen  canter. 

Before  they  came  up  to  Beauchamp,  the  long-shanked 
man  had  stalked  away  townward.  Lydiard  held  Beau- 
champ by  the  hand.  Some  last  words,  after  the  manner 
of  instructions,  passed  between  them,  and  then  Lydiard 
also  turned  away. 

"  I  say,  Beauchamp,  Mrs.  Devereux  wants  to  hear  who 
that  man  is,"  Palmet  said,  drawing  up. 


A  DAY  AT  ITCHINCOPE  181 

"That  man  is  Dr.  Shrapnel,"  said  Beauchamp,  con- 
vinced that  Cecilia  had  checked  her  horse  at  the  sight  of 
the  doctor. 

"Dr.  Shrapnel,"  Palmet  informed  Mrs.  Devereux. 

She  looked  at  him  to  seek  his  wits,  and  returning  Beau- 
champ's  admiring  salutation  with  a  little  bow  and  smile, 
said,  "I  fancied  it  was  a  gentleman  we  met  in  Spain." 

"  He  writes  books, "  observed  Palmet,  to  jog  a  slow  in- 
telligence. 

"Pamphlets,  you  mean." 

"I  think  he  is  not  a  pamphleteer,"  Mrs.  Devereux  said. 

"  Mr.  Lydiard,  then,  of  course ;  how  silly  I  am !  How 
can  you  pardon  me  !  "  Beauchamp  was  contrite ;  he  could 
not  explain  that  a  long  guess  he  had  made  at  Miss  Hal- 
kett's  reluctance  to  come  up  to  him  when  Dr.  Shrapnel 
was  with  him  had  preoccupied  his  mind.  He  sent  off 
Palmet  the  bearer  of  a  pretext  for  bringing  Lydiard  back, 
and  then  said  to  Cecilia,  "  You  recognized  Dr.  Shrapnel  ?  " 

"I  thought  it  might  be  Dr.  Shrapnel,"  she  was  candid 
enough  to  reply.  "I  could  not  well  recognize  him,  not 
knowing  him." 

"  Here  comes  Mr.  Lydiard ;  and  let  me  assure  you,  if  I 
may  take  the  liberty  of  introducing  him,  he  is  no  true 
Radical.  He  is  a  philosopher  —  one  of  the  flirts,  the  but- 
terflies of  politics,  as  Dr.  Shrapnel  calls  them." 

Beauchamp  hummed  over  some  improvized  trifles  to 
Lydiard,  then  introduced  him  cursorily,  and  all  walked  in 
the  direction  of  Itchincope.  It  was  really  the  Mr. 
Lydiard  Mrs.  Devereux  had  met  in  Spain,  so  they  were 
left  in  the  rear  to  discuss  their  travels.  Much  conversa- 
tion did  not  go  on  in  front.  Cecilia  was  very  reserved. 
By-and-by  she  said,  "I  am  glad  you  have  come  into  the 
country  early  to-day." 

He  spoke  rapturously  of  the  fresh  air,  and  not  too  mildly 
of  his  pleasure  in  meeting  her.  Quite  off  her  guard,  she 
began  to  hope  he  was  getting  to  be  one  of  them  again, 
until  she  heard  him  tell  Lord  Palmet  that  he  had  come 
early  out  of  Bevisham  for  the  walk  with  Dr.  Shrapnel, 
and  to  call  on  certain  rich  tradesmen  living  near  Itchin- 
cope.    He  mentioned  the  name  of  Dollikins. 

"  Dollikins  ?  "     Palmet  consulted  a  perturbed   recoUec- 


182  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

tion.  Among  the  entangled  list  of  new  names  he  had 
gathered  recently  from  the  study  of  politics,  Dollikins 
rang  in  his  head.  He  shouted:  "Yes,  Dollikins  !  to  be 
sure.  Lespel  has  him  to  lunch  to-day ;  —  calls  him  a 
gentleman-tradesman ;  odd  fish !  and  told  a  fellow  called 
—  where  is  it  now  ?  —  a  name  like  brass  or  copper  .  .  . 
Copperstone  ?  Brasspot  ?  .  .  .  told  him  he  'd  do  well  to 
keep  his  Tory  cheek  out  of  sight.  It 's  the  names  of  those 
fellows  bother  one  so  !     All  the  rest 's  easy." 

"You  are  evidently  in  a  state  of  confusion,  Lord 
Palmet,"  said  Cecilia. 

The  tone  of  rebuke  and  admonishment  was  unperceived. 
"Not  about  the  facts,"  he  rejoined.  "I  'm  for  fair  play  all 
round;  no  trickery.  I  tell  Beauchamp  all  I  know,  just 
as  I  told  you  this  morning.  Miss  Halkett.  What  I  don't 
like  is  Lespel  turning  Tory." 

Cecilia  put  a  stop  to  his  indiscretions  by  halting  for 
Mrs.  Devereux,  and  saying  to  Beauchamp,  "  If  your  friend 
would  return  to  Bevisham  by  rail,  this  is  the  nearest  point 
to  the  station." 

Palmet,  best-natured  of  men,  though  generally  prompted 
by  some  of  his  peculiar  motives,  dismounted  from  his 
horse,  leaving  him  to  Beauchamp,  that  he  might  conduct 
Mr.  Lydiard  to  the  station,  and  perhaps  hear  a  word  of 
Miss  Denham :  at  any  rate  be  able  to  form  a  guess  as  to  the 
secret  of  that  art  of  his,  which  had  in  the  space  of  an  hour 
restored  a  happy  and  luminous  vivacity  to  the  languid 
Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux. 


CHAPTER    XXI 


THE    QUESTION    AS    TO     THE    EXAMINATION     OF     THE    WHIGS, 
AND  THE  FINE  BLOW  STRUCK  BY  MR.  EVERARD  ROMFREY 

Itchincope  was  famous  for  its  hospitality.  Yet  Beau- 
champ, when  in  the  presence  of  his  hostess,  could  see  that 
he  was  both  unexpected  and  unwelcome.  Mrs.  Lespel 
was  unable  to  conceal  it;  she  looked  meaningly  al:  Cecilia, 
talked  of  the  house  being  very  full,  and  her  husband 


THE  BLOW   STRUCK  BY  MR.   EOMFREY  183 

engaged  till  late  in  the  afternoon.  And  Captain  Baskelett 
had  arrived  on  a  sudden,  she  said.  And  the  luncheon- 
table  in  the  dining-room  could  not  possibly  hold  more. 

"We  three  will  sit  in  the  library,  anywhere,"  said 
Cecilia. 

So  they  sat  and  lunched  in  the  library,  where  Mrs. 
Devereux  served  unconsciously  for  an  excellent  ally  to 
Cecilia  in  chatting  to  Beauchamp,  principally  of  the  writ- 
ings of  Mr.  Lydiard. 

Had  the  blinds  of  the  windows  been  drawn  down  and 
candles  lighted,  Beauchamp  would  have  been  well  con- 
tented to  remain  with  these  two  ladies,  and  forget  the 
outer  world ;  sweeter  society  could  not  have  been  offered 
him :  but  glancing  carelessly  on  to  the  lawn,  he  exclaimed 
m  some  wonderment  that  the  man  he  particularly  wished 
to  see  was  there.  "It  must  be  Dollikins,  the  brewer. 
I  We  had  him  pointed  out  to  me  in  Bevisham,  and  I  never 
can  light  on  him  at  his  brewery." 

No  excuse  for  detaining  the  impetuous  candidate  struck 
Cecilia.  She  betook  herself  to  Mrs.  Lespel,  to  give  and 
receive  counsel  in  the  emergency,  while  Beauchamp  struck 
across  the  lawn  to  Mr.  Dollikins,  who  had  the  squire  of 
Itchincope  on  the  other  side  of  him. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  report  reached  the  ladies  of  a 
furious  contest  going  on  over  Dollikins.  Mr.  Algy  Boro- 
lick  was  the  first  to  give  them  intelligence  of  it,  and  he 
declared  that  Beauchamp  had  wrested  Dollikins  from 
Grancey  Lespel.  This  was  contradicted  subsequently  by 
Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett.  "  But  there 's  heavy  pulling  between 
them,"  he  said. 

"It  will  do  all  the  good  in  the  world  to  Grancey,"  said 
Mrs.  Lespel. 

She  sat  in  her  little  blue- room,  with  gentlemen  congre- 
gating at  the  open  window. 

Presently  Grancey  Lespel  rounded  a  projection  of  the 
house  where  the  drawing-room  stood  out:  "The  maddest 
folly  ever  talked !  "  he  delivered  himself  in  wrath.  "  The 
Whigs  dead  ?    You  may  as  well  say  I  'm  dead." 

It  was  Beauchamp  answering:  "Politically,  you're 
dead,  if  you  call  yourself  a  Whig.  You  could  n't  be  a  live 
one,  for  the  party's  in  pieces,  blown  to  the  winds.     The 


184  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

country  was  once  a  chess-board  for  Whig  and  Tory:  but 
that  game  's  at  an  end.  There  ^s  no  doubt  on  earth  that  the 
Whigs  are  dead." 

"But  if  there  *s  no  doubt  about  it,  how  is  it  I  have  a 
doubt  about  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  you  're  a  Tory.  You  tried  to  get  that  man 
Dollikins  from  me  in  the  Tory  interest." 

"I  mean  to  keep  him  out  of  Radical  clutches.  Now 
that's  the  truth." 

They  came  up  to  the  group  by  the  open  window,  still 
conversing  hotly,  indifferent  to  listeners. 

"You  won't  keep  him  from  me;  I  have  him,"  said 
Beauchamp. 

"You  delude  yourself;  I  have  his  promise,  his  pledged 
word,"  said  Grancey  Lespel. 

"The  man  himself  told  you  his  opinion  of  renegade 
Whigs." 

"Renegade!" 

"Renegade  Whig  is  an  actionable  phrase,"  Mr.  Culbrett 
observed. 

He  was  unnoticed. 

"If  you  don't  like  *  renegade,'  take  '  dead,'  "  said  Beau- 
champ.  "Dead  Whig  resurgent  in  the  Tory.  You  are 
dead." 

"It 's  the  stupid  conceit  if  your  party  thinks  that." 

"  Dead,  my  dear  Mr.  Lespel.  I  '11  say  for  the  Whigs, 
they  would  not  be  seen  touting  for  Tories  if  they  were  not 
ghosts  of  Whigs.  You  are  dead.  There  is  no  doubt 
of  it." 

"But,"  Grancey  Lespel  repeated,  "if  there's  no  doubt 
about  it,  how  is  it  I  have  a  doubt  about  it  ?  " 

"  The  Whigs  preached  finality  in  Reform.  It  was  their 
own  funeral  sermon." 

"  Nonsensical  talk  ! " 

"I  don't  dispute  your  liberty  of  action  to  go  over  to 
the  Tories,  but  you  have  no  right  to  attempt  to  take  an 
honest  Liberal  with  you.     And  that  I  've  stopped." 

"Aha!  Beauchamp;  the  man's  mine.  Come,  you'll 
own  he  swore  he  would  n't  vote  for  a  Shrapnelite." 

"  Don't  you  remember  ?  —  that 's  how  the  Tories  used  to 
fight  you  ;  they  stuck  an  epithet  to  you,  and  hooted  to  set 


THE  BLOW   STRUCK  BY  ]VIB.   EOMFKEY  185 

the  mob  an  example;  you  hit  them  off  to  the  life,"  said 
Beauchamp,  brightening  with  the  fine  ire  of  strife,  and 
affecting  a  sadder  indignation.  "  You  traded  on  the  igno- 
rance of  a  man  prejudiced  by  lying  reports  of  one  of  the 
noblest  of  human  creatures." 

"Shrapnel?  There!  I  Ve  had  enough."  Grancey 
Lespel  bounced  away  with  both  hands  outspread  on  the 
level  of  his  ears. 

"  Dead ! "  Beauchamp  sent  the  ghastly  accusation  after 
him. 

Grancey  faced  round  and  said,  "  Bo ! "  which  was  ap- 
plauded for  a  smart  retort.  And  let  none  of  us  be  so  ex- 
alted above  the  wit  of  daily  life  as  to  sneer  at  it.  Mrs. 
Lespel  remarked  to  Mr.  Culbrett,  "Do  you  not  see  how 
much  he  is  refreshed  by  the  interest  he  takes  in  this 
election?    He  is  ten  years  younger." 

Beauchamp  bent  to  her,  saying  mock-dolefully,  "I  'm 
sorry  to  tell  you  that  if  ever  he  was  a  sincere  Whig,  he 
has  years  of  remorse  before  him." 

''Promise  me.  Captain  Beauchamp,"  she  answered, 
"promise  you  will  give  us  no  more  politics  to-day." 

"If  none  provoke  me." 

"None  shall." 

"And  as  to  Bevisham,"  said  Mr.  Culbrett,  "it's  the 
identical  borough  for  a  Radical  candidate,  for  every  voter 
there  demands  a  division  of  his  property,  and  he  should  be 
the  last  to  complain  of  an  adoption  of  his  principles." 

"Clever,"  rejoined  Beauchamp;  "but  I  am  under  gov- 
ernment; "  and  he  swept  a  bow  to  Mrs.  Lespel. 

As  they  were  breaking  up  the  group,  Captain  Baskelett 
appeared. 

"Ah  !  Nevil,"  said  he,  passed  him,  saluted  Miss  Halkett 
through  the  window,  then  cordially  squeezed  his  cousin's 
hand.  "  Having  a  holiday  out  of  Bevisham?  The  baron 
expects  to  meet  you  at  Mount  Laurels  to-morrow.  He 
particularly  wishes  me  to  ask  you  whether  you  think  all  is 
fair  in  war?" 

"I  don't,"  said  Nevil. 

"Not  ?    The  canvass  goes  on  swimmingly  ?" 

"AskPalmet." 

"Palmet  gives  you  two-thirds  of  the  borough.     The 


186 

poor  old  Tory  tortoise  is  nowhere.     They  've  been  writing 
about  you,  Nevil." 

"  They  have.  And  if  there  's  a  man  of  honour  in  the 
party  I  shall  hold  him  responsible  for  it." 

"I  allude  to  an  article  in  the  Bevisham  Liberal  paper; 
a  magnificent  eulogy,  upon  my  honour.  I  give  you  my 
word,  I  have  rarely  read  an  article  so  eloquent.  And 
what  is  the  Conservative  misdemeanour  which  the  one  man 
of  honour  in  the  party  is  to  pay  for  ?  " 

"I  '11  talk  to  you  about  it  by-and-by,"  said  Nevil. 

He  seemed  to  Cecilia  too  trusting,  too  simple,  consider- 
ing his  cousin's  undisguised  tone  of  banter.  Yet  she  could 
not  put  him  on  his  guard.  She  would  have  had  Mr.  Cul- 
brett  do  so.  She  walked  on  the  terrace  with  him  near  upon 
sunset,  and  said,  "The  position  Captain  Beauchamp  is  in 
here  is  most  unfair  to  him." 

"There  's  nothing  unfair  in  the  lion's  den,"  said  Stukely 
Culbrett;  adding:  "Now,  observe.  Miss  Halkett;  he  talks 
for  effect.  He  discovers  that  Lespel  is  a  Torified  Whig; 
but  that  does  not  make  him  a  bit  more  alert.  It 's  to  say 
smart  things.  He  speaks,  but  won't  act,  as  if  he  were 
among  enemies.  He  's  getting  too  fond  of  his  bow-wow. 
Here  he  is,  and  he  knows  the  den,  and  he  chooses  to 
act  the  innocent.  You  see  how  ridiculous  ?  That  trick 
of  the  ingenu,  or  peculiarly  heavenly  messenger,  who 
pretends  that  he  ought  never  to  have  any  harm  done  to 
him,  though  he  carries  the  lighted  match,  is  the  way  of 
young  Radicals.  Otherwise  Beauchamp  would  be  a  dear 
boy.     We  shall  see  how  he  takes  his  thrashing." 

"  You  feel  sure  he  will  be  beaten  ?  " 

"  He  has  too  strong  a  dose  of  fool's  honesty  to  succeed 
—  stands  for  the  game  laws  with  Radicals,  for  example. 
He  's  loaded  with  scruples  and  crotchets,  and  thinks  more 
of  them  than  of  his  winds  and  his  tides.  No  public  man 
is  to  be  made  out  of  that.  His  idea  of  the  Whigs  being 
dead  shows  a  head  that  can't  read  the  country.  He  means 
himself  for  mankind,  and  is  preparing  to  be  the  benefactor 
of  a  country  parish." 

"  But  as  a  naval  officer  ?  " 

"Excellent." 

Cecilia  was  convinced  that  Mr.  Culbrett  underestimated 


THE  BLOW   STRUCK  BY  MR.   ROMFREY  187 

Beauchamp.  Nevertheless  the  confidence  expressed  in 
Beauchamp's  defeat  reassured  and  pleased  her.  At  mid- 
night she  was  dancing  with  him  in  the  midst  of  great 
matronly  country  vessels  that  raised  a  wind  when  they 
launched  on  the  waltz,  and  exacted  an  anxious  pilotage  on 
the  part  of  gentlemen  careful  of  their  partners ;  and  why 
I  cannot  say,  but  contrasts  produce  quaint  ideas  in  excited 
spirits,  and  a  dancing  politician  appeared  to  her  so  absurd 
that  at  one  moment  she  had  to  bite  her  lips  not  to  laugh. 
It  will  hardly  be  credited  that  the  waltz  with  Nevil  was 
delightful  to  Cecilia  all  the  while,  and  dancing  with  others 
a  penance.  He  danced  with  none  other.  He  led  her  to  a 
three  o'clock  morning  supper:  one  of  those  triumphant 
subversions  of  the  laws  and  customs  of  earth  which  have 
the  charm  of  a  form  of  present  deification  for  all  young 
people;  and  she,  while  noting  how  the  poor  man's  advo- 
cate dealt  with  costly  pasties  and  sparkling  wines,  was 
overjoyed  at  his  hearty  comrade's  manner  with  the  gentle- 
men, and  a  leadership  in  fun  that  he  seemed  to  have 
established.  Cecil  Baskelett  acknowledged  it,  and  compli- 
mented him  on  it.  "  I  give  you  my  word,  Nevil,  I  never 
heard  you  in  finer  trim.  Here  's  to  our  drive  into  Bevisham 
to-morrow!     Do  you  drink  it  ?     I  beg;  I  entreat." 

"Oh,  certainly,"  said  Nevil. 

"  Will  you  take  a  whip  down  there  ?  " 

"Tf  you  're  all  insured." 

"On  my  honour,  old  Nevil,  driving  a  four-in-hand  is 
easier  than  governing  the  country." 

"  I  '11  accept  your  authority  for  what  you  know  best,"  said 
Nevil. 

The  toast  of  the  Drive  into  Bevisham  was  drunk. 

Cecilia  left  the  supper-table,  mortified,  and  feeling  dis- 
graced by  her  participation  in  a  secret  that  was  being  wan- 
tonly abused  to  humiliate  Nevil,  as  she  was  made  to  think 
by  her  sensitiveness.  All  the  gentlemen  were  against  him, 
excepting  perhaps  that  chattering  pie  Lord  Palmet,  who 
did  him  more  mischief  than  his  enemies.  She  could  not 
sleep.  She  walked  out  on  the  terrace  with  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux,  in  a  dream,  hearing  that  lady  breathe  remarks 
hardly  less  than  sentimental,  and  an  unwearied  succession 
of  shouts  from  the  smoking-room.  ^»w   . 


188  BEAUCH amp's   CAREER 

"They  are  not  going  to  bed  to-night,"  said  Mrs. 
Devereux. 

"They  are  mystifying  Captain  Beauchamp,"  said  Cecilia. 

"My  husband  tells  me  they  are  going  to  drive  him  into 
the  town  to-morrow." 

Cecilia  flushed :  she  could  scarcely  get  her  breath. 

"Is  that  their  plot  ?"  she  murmured. 

Sleep  was  rejected  by  her,  bed  itself.  The  drive  into 
Bevisham  had  been  fixed  for  nine  a.  m.  She  wrote  two 
lines  on  note-paper  in  her  room:  but  found  them  over- 
fervid  and  mysterious.  Besides,  how  were  they  to  be  con- 
veyed to  Nevil's  chamber ! 

She  walked  in  the  passage  for  half  an  hour,  thinking  it 
possible  she  might  meet  him;  not  the  most  lady -like  of 
proceedings,  but  her  head  was  bewildered.  An  arm-chair 
in  her  room  invited  her  to  rest  and  think  —  the  mask  of  a 
natural  desire  for  sleep.  At  eight  in  the  morning  she  was 
awakened  by  her  maid,  and  at  a  touch  exclaimed,  "  Have 
they  gone  ?  "  and  her  heart  still  throbbed  after  hearing 
that  most  of  the  gentlemen  were  in  and  about  the  stables. 
Cecilia  was  down-stairs  at  a  quarter  to  nine.  The  break- 
fast-room was  empty  of  all  but  Lord  Palmet  and  Mr. 
Wardour-Devereux ;  one  selecting  a  cigar  to  light  out  of 
doors,  the  other  debating  between  two  pipes.  She  beckoned 
to  Palmet,  and  commissioned  him  to  inform  Beauchamp 
that  she  wished  him  to  drive  her  down  to  Bevisham  in  her 
pony  carriage.  Palmet  brought  back  word  from  Beauchamp 
that  he  had  an  appointment  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  town,  "I 
want  to  see  him,"  she  said;  so  Palmet  ran  out  with  the 
order.     Cecilia  met  Beauchamp  in  the  entrance-hall. 

"You  must  not  go,"  she  said  bluntly. 

"I  can't  break  an  appointment,"  said  he  —  "for  the  sake 
of  my  own  pleasure,"  was  implied. 

"  Will  you  not  listen  to  me,  Nevil,  when  I  say  you  can- 
not go  ?  " 

A  coachman's  trumpet  blew. 

"I  shall  be  late.  That's  Colonel  Millington's  team. 
He  starts  first,  then  Wardour-Devereux,  then  Cecil,  and  I 
mount  beside  him;  Palmet 's  at  our  heels." 

"But  can't  you  even  imagine  a  purpose  for  their  driving 
into  Bevisham  so  pompously  ?" 


THE  BLOW   STRUCK  BY  MR.   ROMTREY  189 

"Well,  men  with  drags  haven't  commonly  much  pur- 
pose/' he  said. 

"But  on  this  occasion  !  At  an  Election  time  !  Surely, 
Nevil,  you  can  guess  at  a  reason." 

A  second  trumpet  blew  very  martially.  Footmen  came 
in  search  of  Captain  Beauchamp.  The  alternative  of 
breaking  her  pledged  word  to  her  father,  or  of  letting 
Nevil  be  burlesqued  in  the  sight  of  the  town,  could  no 
longer  be  dallied  with. 

Cecilia  said,  "  Well,  Nevil,  then  you  shall  hear  it." 

Hereupon  Captain  Baskelett's  groom  informed  Captain 
Beauchamp  that  he  was  off. 

"Yes,"  Nevil  said  to  Cecilia,  "tell  me  on  board  the 
yacht." 

"Nevil,  you  will  be  driving  into  the  town  with  the 
second  Tory  candidate  of  the  borough." 

"  Which  ?  who  ?  "  Nevil  asked. 

"Your  cousin  Cecil." 

"  Tell  Captain  Baskelett  that  I  don't  drive  dowji  till  an 
hour  later,"  Nevil  said  to  the  groom.  "  Cecilia,  you  're  my 
friend;  I  wish  you  were  more.  I  wish  we  didn't  differ. 
I  shall  hope  to  change  you  —  make  you  come  half-way  out 
of  that  citadel  of  yours.  This  is  my  uncle  Everard  !  I 
might  have  made  sure  there  'd  be  a  blow  from  him!  And 
Cecil!  of  all  men  for  a  politician!  Cecilia,  think  of  it! 
Cecil  Baskelett !  I  beg  Seymour  Austin's  pardon  for 
having  suspected  him  ..." 

Now  sounded  Captain  Baskelett's  trumpet. 

Angry  though  he  was,  Beauchamp  laughed.  "  Is  n't  it 
exactly  like  the  baron  to  spring  a  mine  of  this  kind  ?" 

There  was  decidedly  humour  in  the  plot,  and  it  was  a 
lusty  quarterstaff  blow  into  the  bargain.  Beauchamp's 
head  rang  with  it.  He  could  not  conceal  the  stunning 
effect  it  had  on  him.  Gratitude  and  tenderness  toward 
Cecilia  for  saving  him,  at  the  cost  of  a  partial  breach  of 
faith  that  he  quite  understood,  from  the  scandal  of  the 
public  entry  into  Bevisham  on  the  Tory  coach-box,  alter- 
nated with  his  interjections  regarding  his  uncle  Everard. 

At  eleven,  Cecilia  sat  in  her  pony-carriage  giving  final 
directions   to  Mrs.   Devereux  where  to  look  out  for  the 


190  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Usperanza  SLTid  the  schooner's  boat.  "Then  I  drive  down 
alone,"  Mrs.  Devereux  said. 

The  gentlemen  were  all  off,  and  every  available  maid 
with  them  on  the  coach-boxes,  a  brilliant  sight  that  had 
been  missed  by  Nevil  and  Cecilia. 

"  Why,  here  's  Lydiard  !  "  said  Nevil,  supposing  that 
Lydiard  must  be  approaching  him  with  tidings  of  the 
second  Tory  candidate.  But  Lydiard  knew  nothing  of  it. 
He  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  on  foreign  paper  —  marked 
urgent,  in  Eosamund's  hand  —  and  similarly  worded  in 
the  well-known  hand  which  had  inscribed  the  original 
address  of  the  letter  to  Steynham. 

Beauchamp  opened  it  and  read,  — 

"  ChAteau  Tourdestelle 

"(EURE). 

"  Come.     I  give  you  three  days  —  no  more. 

The  brevity  was  horrible.  Did  it  spring  from  childish 
imperiousness  or  tragic  peril  ? 

Beauchamp  could  imagine  it  to  be  this  or  that.  In 
moments  of  excited  speculation  we  do  not  dwell  on  the 
possibility  that  there  may  be  a  mixture  of  motives. 

"I  fear  I  must  cross  over  to  France  this  evening,"  he 
said  to  Cecilia. 

She  replied :  "  It  is  likely  to  be  stormy  to-night.  The 
steamboat  may  not  run." 

"If  there  's  a  doubt  of  it,  I  shall  find  a  French  lugger. 
You  are  tired,  from  not  sleeping  last  night." 

"No,"  she  answered,  and  nodded  to  Mrs.  Devereux, 
beside  whom  Mr.  Lydiard  stood :  "  You  will  not  drive  down 
alone,  you  see." 

For  a  young  lady  threatened  with  a  tempest  in  her 
heart,  as  disturbing  to  her  as  the  one  gathering  in  the 
West  for  ships  at  sea,  Miss  Halkett  bore  herself  well. 


THE  DRIVE  INTO  BEVISHAM  191 

CHAPTER  XXII 

THE   DRIVE   INTO   BEVISHAM 

Beauchamp  was  requested  by  Cecilia  to  hold  the  reins. 
His  fair  companion  in  the  pony -carriage  preferred  to  lean 
back  musing,  and  he  had  leisure  to  think  over  the  blow 
dealt  him  by  his  uncle  Everard  with  so  sure  an  aim  so 
ringingly  on  the  head.  And  in  the  first  place  he  made  no 
attempt  to  disdain  it  because  it  was  nothing  but  artful 
and  heavy-handed,  after  the  mediaeval  pattern.  Of  old 
he  himself  had  delighted  in  artfulness  as  well  as  boldness 
and  the  unmistakable  hit.  Highly  to  prize  generalship  was 
in  his  blood,  though  latterly  the  very  forces  propelling 
him  to  his  political  warfare  had  forbidden  the  use  of 
it  to  him.  He  saw  the  patient  veteran  laying  his  gun  for 
a  long  shot  —  to  give  as  good  as  he  had  received;  and 
in  realizing  Everard  Romfrey's  perfectly  placid  bearing 
under  provocation,  such  as  he  certainly  would  have  main- 
tained while  preparing  his  reply  to  it,  the  raw  fighting 
humour  of  the  plot  touched  the  sense  of  justice  in  Beau- 
champ  enough  to  make  him  own  that  he  had  been  the  first 
to  offend. 

He  could  reflect  also  on  the  likelihood  that  other  offended 
men  of  his  uncle's  age  and  position  would  have  sulked  or 
stormed,  threatening  the  Parthian  shot  of  the  vindictive 
testator.  If  there  was  godlessness  in  turning  to  politics 
for  a  weapon  to  strike  a  domestic  blow,  man  fulness  in 
some  degree  signalized  it.  Beauchamp  could  fancy  his 
uncle  crying  out.  Who  set  the  example  ?  and  he  was  not  at 
that  instant  inclined  to  dwell  on  the  occult  virtues  of  the 
example  he  had  set.  To  be  honest,  this  elevation  of  a 
political  puppet  like  Cecil  Baskelett,  and  the  starting  him, 
out  of  the  same  family  which  Turbot,  the  journalist,  had 
magnified,  into  Bevisham  with  such  ponip  and  flourish  in 
opposition  to  the  serious  young  champion  of  popular  rights 
and  the  Puritan  style,  was  ludicrously  effective.  Con- 
.scienceless  of  course.  But  that  was  the  way  of  the  Old 
School. 


192  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

Beauchamp  broke  the  silence  by  thanking  Cecilia  once 
more  for  saving  him  from  the  absurd  exhibition  of  the 
Eadical  candidate  on  the  Tory  coach-box,  and  laughing  at 
the  grimmish  slyness  of  his  uncle  Everard's  conspiracy :  a 
something  in  it  that  was  half -smile,  half-sneer ;  not  exactly 
malignant,  and  by  no  means  innocent;  something  made  up 
of  the  simplicity  of  a  lighted  match,  and  its  proximity  to 
powder,  yet  neither  deadly,  in  spite  of  a  wicked  twinkle, 
nor  at  all  pretending  to  be  harmless :  in  short,  a  specimen 
of  old  English  practical  humour. 

He  laboured  to  express  these  or  corresponding  views  of 
it,  with  tolerably  natural  laughter,  and  Cecilia  rallied  her 
spirits  at  his  pleasant  manner  of  taking  his  blow. 

"I  shall  compliment  the  baron  when  I  meet  him  to- 
night," he  said.     "  What  can  we  compare  him  to  ?  '^ 

She  suggested  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  the  Lord 
Haroun,  who  likewise  had  a  turn  for  buffooneries  to  serve 
a  purpose,  and  could  direct  them  loftily  and  sovereignly. 

"No:  Everard  Komfrey 's  a  Northerner  from  the  feet 
up,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Cecilia  compliantly  offered  him  a  sketch  of  the  Scandi- 
navian Troll :  much  nearer  the  mark,  he  thought,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  Baron  Troll !  I  'm  afraid,  Cecilia,  you  have 
robbed  him  of  the  best  part  of  his  fun.  And  you  will 
owe  it  entirely  to  him  if  you  should  be  represented  in  Par- 
liament by  my  cousin  Baskelett." 

"Promise  me,  Nevil,  that  you  will,  when  you  meet  Cap- 
tain Baskelett,  not  forget  I  did  you  some  service,  and  that 
I  wish,  I  shall  be  so  glad  if  you  do  not  resent  certain 
things.  .  .   .  Very  objectionable,  we  all  think." 

He  released  her  from  the  embarrassing  petition:  "Oh! 
now  I  know  my  man,  you  may  be  sure  I  won't  waste  a 
word  on  him.  The  fact  is,  he  would  not  understand  a 
word,  and  would  require  more  —  and  that  I  don't  do. 
When  I  fancied  Mr.  Austin  was  the  responsible  person,  I 
meant  to  speak  to  him." 

Cecilia  smiled  gratefully. 

The  sweetness  of  a  love-speech  would  not  have  been 
sweeter  to  her  than  this  proof  of  civilized  chivalry  in 
'■Nevil..,'    _^^^^ ...,. --  ---■'■■ 

They  came   to  the  fir-heights   overlooking  Bevisham. 


THE  DRIVE  INTO  BEVISHAM  193 

Here  the  breezy  beginning  of  a  South-western  autumnal 
gale  tossed  the  ponies'  manes  and  made  threads  of  Cecilia's 
shorter  locks  of  beautiful  auburn  by  the  temples  and  the 
neck,  blustering  the  curls  that  streamed  in  a  thick  involu- 
tion from  the  silken  band  gathering  them  off  her  uncovered 
clear-swept  ears. 

Beauchamp  took  an  impression  of  her  side  face.  It 
seemed  to  offer  him  everything  the  world  could  offer  of 
cultivated  purity,  intelligent  beauty  and  attractiveness; 
and  "Wilt  thou?"  said  the  winged  minute.  Peace,  a 
good  repute  in  the  mouths  of  men,  home,  and  a  trust- 
worthy woman  for  mate,  an  ideal  English  lady,  the  rarest 
growth  of  our  country,  and  friends  and  fair  esteem,  were 
offered.  Last  night  he  had  waltzed  with  her,  and  the 
manner  of  this  tall  graceful  girl  in  submitting  to  the  union 
of  the  measure  and  reserving  her  individual  distinction, 
had  exquisitely  flattered  his  taste,  giving  him  an  auspi- 
cious image  of  her  in  partnership,  through  the  uses  of  life. 

He  looked  ahead  at  the  low  dead-blue  cloud  swinging 
from  across  Channel.  What  could  be  the  riddle  of  Renee's 
letter  !     It  chained  him  completely. 

"At  all  events,  I  shall  not  be  away  longer  than  three 
days,"  he  said;  paused,  eyed  Cecilia's  profile,  and  added, 
"  Do  we  differ  so  much  ?  " 

"It  may  not  be  so  much  as  we  think,"  said  she. 

"But  if  we  do!" 

"Then,  Nevil,  there  is  a  difference  between  us." 

"But  if  we  keep  our  lips  closed  ?  " 

"  We  should  have  to  shut  our  eyes  as  well !  " 

A  lovely  melting  image  of  her  stole  over  him ;  all  the 
warmer  for  her  unwittingness  in  producing  it:  and  it 
awakened  a  tenderness  toward  the  simple  speaker. 

Cecilia's  delicate  breeding  saved  her  from  running  on  fig- 
uratively. She  continued :  "  Intellectual  differences  do  not 
cause  wounds,  except  when  very  unintellectual  sentiments 
are  behind  them:  —  my  conceit,  or  your  impatience,  Nevil? 
*  Noi  veggiam  come  quei,  che  ha  mala  luce. '  .  .  .  I  can  con- 
fess my  sight  to  be  imperfect :  but  will  you  ever  do  so  ?  " 

Her  musical  voice  in  Italian  charmed  his  hearing. 

**  What  poet  was  that  you  quoted  ?  " 

"The  wisest:  Dante." 

13 


194  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"Dr.  ShrapnePs  favourite  !     I  must  try  to  read  him." 

"He  reads  Dante?"  Cecilia  threw  a  stress  on  the 
august  name ;  and  it  was  manifest  that  she  cared  not  for 
the  answer. 

Contemptuous  exclusiveness  could  not  go  farther. 

"He  is  a  man  of  cultivation,"  Beauchamp  said  curso- 
rily, trying  to  avoid  dissension,  but  in  vain.  "  I  wish  I 
were  half  as  well  instructed,  and  the  world  half  as  chari- 
table as  he !  —  You  ask  me  if  I  shall  admit  my  sight  to  be 
imperfect.  Yes ;  when  you  prove  to  me  that  priests  and 
landlords  are  willing  to  do  their  duty  by  the  people  in 
preference  to  their  churches  and  their  property :  but  will 
you  ever  shake  off  prejudice  ?  " 

Here  was  opposition  sounding  again.  Cecilia  mentally 
reproached  Dr.  Shrapnel  for  it. 

"Indeed,  Nevil,  really,  must  not  —  may  I  not  ask  you 
this  ?  —  must  not  everyone  feel  the  evil  spell  of  some 
associations  ?    And  Dante  and  Dr.  Shrapnel !  " 

"You  don't  know  him,  Cecilia." 

"I  saw  him  yesterday." 

"You  thought  him  too  tall ? " 

"I  thought  of  his  character." 

"How  angry  I  should  be  with  you  if  you  were  not  so 
beautiful !  " 

"I  am  immensely  indebted  to  my  unconscious  advocate." 

"You  are  clad  in  steel;  you  flash  back;  you  won't 
answer  me  out  of  the  heart.  I  'm  convinced  it  is  pure 
wilfulness  that  makes  you  oppose  me." 

"I  fancy  you  must  be  convinced  because  you  cannot 
imagine  women  to  have  any  share  of  public  spirit,  Nevil." 

A  grain  of  truth  in  that  remark  set  Nevil  reflecting. 
"  "I  want  them  to  have  it,"  he  remarked,  and  glanced  at  a 
Tory  placard,  probably  the  puppet's  fresh-printed  address 
to  the  electors,  on  one  of  the  wayside  fir-trees.  "  Bevisham 
looks  well  from  here.  We  might  make  a  North-western 
,Venice  of  it,  if  we  liked." 

"Papa  told  you  it  would  be  money  sunk  in  mud." 

"Did  I  mention  it  to  him  ?  —  Thoroughly  Conservative 
— So  he  would  leave  the  mud  as  it  is.  They  insist  on  our 
not  venturing  anything  —  those  Tories  !  exactly  as  though 
we  had  gained  the  best  of  human  conditions,  instead  of 


THE  DRIVE  INTO  BEVISHAM  195 

counting  crops  of  rogues,  malefactors,  egoists,  noxious  and 
lumbersome  creatures  that  deaden  the  country.  Your  town 
down  there  is  one  of  the  ugliest  and  dirtiest  in  the  kingdom : 
it  might  be  the  fairest." 

"I  have  often  thought  that  of  Bevisham,  Nevil." 

He  drew  a  visionary  sketch  of  quays,  embankments, 
bridged  islands,  public  buildings,  magical  emanations  of 
patriotic  architecture,  with  a  practical  air,  an  absence  of 
that  enthusiasm  which  struck  her  with  suspicion  when  it 
was  not  applied  to  landscape  or  the  Arts ;  and  she  accepted 
it,  and  warmed,  and  even  allowed  herself  to  appear  hesi- 
tating when  he  returned  to  the  similarity  of  the  state  of 
mud-begirt  Bevisham  and  our  great  sluggish  England. 

Was  he  not  perhaps  to  be  pitied  in  his  bondage  to  the 
Frenchwoman,  who  could  have  no  ideas  in  common  with 
him  ? 

The  rare  circumstance  that  she  and  Nevil  Beauchamp 
had  found  a  subject  of  agreement,  partially  overcame  the 
sentiment  Cecilia  entertained  for  the  foreign  lady;  and 
having  now  one  id,ea  in  common  with  him,  she  conceived 
the  possibility  that  there  might  be  more.  There  must  be 
many,  for  he  loved  England,  and  she  no  less.  She  clung, 
however,  to  the  topic  of  Bevisham,  preferring  to  dream 
of  the  many  more,  rather  than  run  risks.  Undoubtedly 
the  town  was  of  an  ignoble  aspect;  and  it  was  declining 
in  prosperity;  and  it  was  consequently  over-populated. 
And  undoubtedly  (so  she  was  induced  to  coincide  for  the 
moment)  a  Government,  acting  to  any  extent  like  a  super- 
vising head,  should  aid  and  direct  the  energies  of  towns 
and  ports  and  trades,  and  not  leave  everything  everywhere 
to  chance :  schools  for  the  people,  public  morality,  should 
be  the  charge  of  Government.  Cecilia  had  surrendered  the 
lead  to  him,  and  was  forced  to  subscribe  to  an  equivalent 
of  "  undoubtedly  "  the  Tories  just  as  little  as  the  Liberals 
had  done  these  good  offices.  Party  against  party,  neither 
of  them  had  a  forethoughtful  head  for  the  land  at  large. 
They  waited  for  the  Press  to  spur  a  great  imperial  country 
to  be  but  defensively  armed,  and  they  accepted  the  so-' 
called  volunteers,  with  a  nominal  one-month's  (J^iH  per 
annum,  as  a  guarantee  of  defence ! 

Beauchamp  startled  her,  actually  kindled  her  mind  to 


196  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAKEER 

an  activity  of  wonder  and  regret,  with  the  statement  of 
how  much  Government,  acting  with  some  degree  of  far- 
sightedness, might  have  won  to  pay  the  public  debt  and 
remit  taxation,  by  originally  retaining  the  lines  of  rail- 
way, and  fastening  on  the  valuable  land  adjoining  stations. 
Hundreds  of  millions  of  pounds  ! 

She  dropped  a  sigh  at  the  prodigious  amount,  but  in- 
quired, "  Who  has  calculated  it  ?  " 

For  though  perfectly  aware  that  this  kind  of  conversa- 
tion was  a  special  compliment  paid  to  her  by  her  friend 
Nevil,  and  dimly  perceiving  that  it  implied  something 
beyond  a  compliment  —  in  fact,  that  it  was  his  manner  of 
probing  her  for  sympathy,  as  other  men  would  have 
conducted  the  process  preliminary  to  deadly  flattery  or  to 
wooing,  her  wits  fenced  her  heart  about;  the  exercise  of 
shrewdness  was  an  instinct  of  self-preservation.  She  had 
nothing  but  her  poor  wits,  daily  growing  fainter,  to  resist 
him  with.  And  he  seemed  to  know  it,  and  therefore 
assailed  them,  never  trying  at  the  heart. 

That  vast  army  of  figures  might  be  but  a  phantom  army 
conjured  out  of  the  Radical  mists,  might  it  not?  she 
hinted.  And  besides,  we  cannot  surely  require  a  Govern- 
ment to  speculate  in  the  future,  can  we  ? 

Possibly  not,  as  Governments  go,  Beauchamp  said. 

But  what  think  you  of  a  Government  of  landowners 
decreeing  the  enclosure  of  millions  of  acres  of  common  land 
amongst  themselves ;  taking  the  property  of  the  people  to 
add  to  their  own !  Say,  is  not  that  plunder  ?  Public 
property,  observe;  decreed  to  them  by  their  own  law- 
making, under  the  pretence  that  it  was  being  reclaimed  for 
cultivation,  when  in  reality  it  has  been  but  an  addition  to 
their  pleasure-grounds :  a  flat  robbery  of  pasture  from  the 
poor  man's  cow  and  goose,  and  his  right  of  cutting  furze 
for  firing.  Consider  that !  Beauchamp's  eyes  flashed 
democratic  in  reciting  this  injury  to  the  objects  of  his 
warm  solicitude  —  the  man,  the  cow,  and  the  goose.  But 
so  must  he  have  looked  when  fronting  England's  enemies, 
and  his  aspect  of  fervour  subdued  Cecilia.  She  confessed 
her  inability  to  form  an  estimate  of  such  conduct. 

"  Are  they  doing  it  still  ?"  she  asked. 

"  We  owe  it  to  Dr.  Shrapnel  foremost  that  there  is  now 


THE  DRIVE  INTO   BEVISHAM  197 

a  watch  over  them  to  stop  them.  But  for  him,  Grancey 
Lespel  would  have  enclosed  half  of  Northedt?fa  Heath. 
As  it  is,  he  has  filched  bits  here  and  there,  and  he  will 
have  to  put  back  his  palings." 

However,  now  let  Cecilia  understand  that  we  English, 
calling  ourselves  free,  are  under  morally  lawless  rule. 
Government  is  what  we  require,  and  our  means  of  getting 
it  must  be  through  universal  suffrage.  At  present  we 
have  no  Government;  only  shifting  Party  Ministries, 
which  are  the  tools  of  divers  interests,  wealthy  factions, 
to  the  sacrifice  of  the  Commonwealth. 

She  listened,  like  Kosamund  Culling  overborne  by  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  inwardly  praying  that  she  might  discover  a  man 
to  reply  to  him. 

"A  Despotism,  Nevil?" 

He  hoped  not,  declined  the  despot,  was  English  enough 
to  stand  against  the  best  of  men  in  that  character;  but  he 
cast  it  on  Tory,  Whig,  and  Liberal,  otherwise  the  Consti- 
tutionalists, if  we  were  to  come  upon  the  despot. 

"  They  see  we  are  close  on  universal  suffrage ;  they  Ve 
been  bidding  each  in  turn  for  '  the  people,'  and  that  has 
brought  them  to  it,  and  now  they  're  alarmed,  and  accuse 
one  another  of  treason  to  the  Constitution,  and  they  don't 
accept  the  situation :  and  there  's  a  fear,  that  to  carry  on 
their  present  system,  they  will  be  thwarting  the  people  or 
corrupting  them :  and  in  that  case  we  shall  have  our  despot 
in  some  shape  or  other,  and  we  shall  suffer." 

"Nevil,"  said  Cecilia,  "I  am  out  of  my  depth." 

"I  '11  support  you;  I  can  swim  for  two,"  said  he. 

"  You  are  very  self-confident,  but  I  find  I  am  not  fit  for 
battle;  at  least  not  in  the  front  ranks." 

"  JSTerve  me,  then :  will  you  ?  Try  to  comprehend  once 
for  all  what  the  battle  is." 

"I  am  afraid  I  am  too  indifferent;  I  am  too  luxurious. 
That  reminds  me:  you  want  to  meet  your  uncle  Everard: 
and  if  you  will  sleep  at  Mount  Laurels  to-night,  the 
Esperanza  shall  take  you  to  France  to-morrow  morning, 
and  can  wait  to  bring  you  back." 

As  she  spoke  she  perceived  a  flush  mounting  over  NeviPs 
face.     Soon  it  was  communicated  to  hers. 

The  strange  secret  of  the  blood  electrified  them  both, 


198  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

and  revealed  the  burning  undercurrent  running  between 
them  from  the  hearts  of  each.  The  light  that  showed  how 
near  they  were  to  one  another  was  kindled  at  the  barrier 
dividing  them.  It  remained  as  good  as  a  secret,  unchal- 
lenged until  they  had  separated,  and  after  midnight  Cecilia 
looked  through  her  chamber  windows  at  the  driving  moon 
of  a  hurricane  scud,  and  read  clearly  his  honourable  reluc- 
tance to  be  wafted  over  to  his  French  love  by  her  assist- 
ance; and  Beauchamp  on  board  the  tossing  steamboat 
perceived  in  her  sympathetic  reddening  that  she  had 
divined  him. 

This  auroral  light  eclipsed  the  other  events  of  the  day. 
He  drove  into  a  town  royally  decorated,  and  still  hum- 
ming with  the  ravishment  of  the  Tory  entrance.  He  sailed 
in  the  schooner  to  Mount  Laurels,  in  the  society  of  Captain 
Baskelett  and  his  friends,  who,  finding  him  tamer  than 
they  expected,  bantered  him  in  the  cheerfullest  fashion. 
He  waited  for  his  uncle  Everard  several  hours  at  Mount 
Laurels,  perused  the  junior  Tory's  address  to  the  Electors, 
throughout  which  there  was  not  an  idea  —  safest  of 
addresses  to  canvass  upon  !  perused  likewise,  at  Captain 
Baskelett's  request,  a  broadsheet  of  an  article  introducing 
the  new  candidate  to  Bevisham  with  the  battle-axe  Eom- 
freys  to  back  him,  in  high  burlesque  of  Timothy  Turbot 
upon  Beauchamp:  and  Cecil  hoped  his  cousin  would  not 
object  to  his  borrowing  a  Romfrey  or  two  for  so  pressing 
an  occasion.  All  very  funny,  and  no  doubt  the  presence 
'of  Mr.  Everard  Romfrey  would  have  heightened  the  fun 
from  the  fountain-head;  but  he  happened  to  be  delayed, 
and  Beauchamp  had  to  leave  directions  behind  him  in  the 
town,  besides  the  discussioQ  of  a  whole  plan  of  conduct 
with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  so  he  was  under  the  necessity  of 
departing  without  seeing  his  uncle,  really  to  his  regret. 
He  left  word  to  that  effect. 

Taking  leave  of  Cecilia,  he  talked  of  his  return  "home" 
within  three  or  four  days  as  a  certainty. 

She  said:  "Canvassing  should  not  be  neglected  now." 

Her  hostility  was  confused  by  what  she  had  done  to  save 
him  from  annoyance,  while  his  behaviour  to  his  cousin 
Cecil  increased  her  respect  for  him.  She  detected  a 
pathetic  meaning  in  his  mention  of  the  word  home;  she 


TOUEDESTELLE  199 

mused  on  his  having  called  her  beautiful :  whither  was  she 
hurrying  ?  Forgetful  of  her  horror  of  his  revolutionary 
ideas,  forgetful  of  the  elevation  of  her  own,  she  thrilled 
secretly  on  hearing  it  stated  by  the  jubilant  young  Tories 
at  Mount  Laurels,  as  a  characteristic  of  Beauchamp,  that 
he  was  clever  in  parrying  political  thrusts,  and  slipping 
from  the  theme ;  he  who  with  her  gave  out  unguardedly 
the  thoughts  deepest  in  him.  And  the  thoughts !  —  were 
they  not  of  generous  origin  ?  Where  so  true  a  helpmate 
for  him  as  the  one  to  whom  his  mind  appealed  ?  It  could 
not  be  so  with  the  Frenchwoman.  Cecilia  divined  a  gen- 
erous nature  by  generosity,  and  set  herself  to  believe  that 
in  honour  he  had  not  yet  dared  to  speak  to  her  from  the 
heart,  not  being  at  heart  quite  free.  She  was  at  the  same 
time  in  her  remains  of  pride  cool  enough  to  examine  and 
rebuke  the  weakness  she  succumbed  to  in  now  clinging 
to  him  by  that  which  yesterday  she  hardly  less  than 
loathed,  still  deeply  disliked. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

TOURDESTELLE 


On  the  part  of  Beauchamp,  his  conversation  with  Cecilia 
during  the  drive  into  Bevisham  opened  out  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  a  prospect  of  home;  he  had  felt  the  word 
in  speaking  it,  and  it  signified  an  end  to  the  distractions 
produced  by  the  sex,  allegiance  to  one  beloved  respected 
woman,  and  also  a  basis  of  operations  against  the  world. 
For  she  was  evidently  conquerable,  and  once  matched  with 
him,  would  be  the  very  woman  to  nerve  and  sustain  him. 
Did  she  not  listen  to  him  ?  He  liked  her  resistance. 
That  element  of  the  barbarous  which  went  largely  to  form 
his  emotional  nature  was  overjoyed  in  wresting  such  a 
woman  from  the  enemy,  and  subduing  her  personally. 
She  was  a  prize.  She  was  a  splendid  prize,  cut  out  from 
under  the  guns  of  the  fort.  He  rendered  all  that  was  due 
to  his  eminently  good  cause  for   its   part  in  so  signal  a 


200  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

success,  but  individual  satisfaction  is  not  diminished  by 
the  thought  that  the  individual's  discernment  selected 
the  cause  thus  beneficenb  to  him. 

Beauchamp's  meditations  were  diverted  by  the  sight  of 
the  coast  of  France  dashed  in  rain-lines  across  a  weed- 
strewn  sea.  The  "  three  days  "  granted  him  by  Kenee  were 
over,  and  it  scarcely  troubled  him  that  he  should  be  behind 
the  time;  he  detested  mystery,  holding  it  to  be  a  sign 
of  pretentious  feebleness,  often  of  imposture,  it  might  be 
frivolity.  Punctilious  obedience  to  the  mysterious  brevity 
of  the  summons,  and  not  to  chafe  at  it,  appeared  to  him 
as  much  as  could  be  expected  of  a  struggling  man.  This 
was  the  state  of  the  case  with  him,  until  he  stood  on  French 
earth,  breathed  French  air,  and  chanced  to  hear  the  tongue 
of  France  twittered  by  a  lady  on  the  quay.  The  charm 
was  instantaneous.  He  reminded  himself  that  Eenee, 
unlike  her  countrywomen,  had  no  gift  for  writing  letters. 
They  had  never  corresponded  since  the  hour  of  her  mar- 
riage. They  had  met  in  Sicily,  at  Syracuse,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  father  and  her  husband,  and  so  inanimate  was 
she  that  the  meeting  seemed  like  the  conclusion  of  their 
history.  Her  brother  Eoland  sent  tidings  of  her  by  fits, 
and  sometimes  a  conventional  message  from  Tourdestelle. 
Latterly  her  husband's  name  had  been  cited  as  among  the 
wildfires  of  Parisian  quags,  in  journals  more  or  less  devoted 
to  those  unreclaimed  spaces  of  the  city.  Well,  if  she 
was  unhappy,  was  it  not  the  fulfilment  of  his  prophecy  in 
Venice  ? 

Renee's  brevity  became  luminous.  She  needed  him 
urgently,  and  knowing  him  faithful  to  the  death,  she, 
because  she  knew  him,  dispatched  purely  the  words  which 
said  she  needed  him.  Why,  those  brief  words  were  the 
poetry  of  noble  confidence !  But  what  could  her  distress 
be  ?  The  lover  was  able  to  read  that,  "  Come ;  I  give  you 
three  days,"  addressed  to  him,  was  not  language  of  a 
woman  free  of  her  yoke. 

Excited  to  guess  and  guess ,  Beauchamp  swept  on  to  spec- 
ulations of  a  madness  that  seized  him  bodily  at  last. 
Were  you  loved,  Cecilia  ?  He  thought  little  of  politics  in 
relation  to  Ken^e;  or  of  home,  or  of  honour  in  the 
world's  eye,  or  of  labouring  to  pay  the  fee  for  his  share  of 


TOTJEDESTELLE  201 

life.  This  at  least  was  one  of  the  forms  of  love  which 
precipitate  men :  the  sole  thought  in  him  was  to  be  with 
her.  She  was  Renee,  the  girl  of  whom  he  had  propheti- 
cally said  that  she  must  come  to  regrets  and  tears.  His 
vision  of  her  was  not  at  Tourdestelle,  though  he  assumed 
her  to  be  there  awaiting  him:  she  was  under  the  sea- 
shadowing  Alps,  looking  up  to  the  red  and  gold-rosed 
heights  of  a  realm  of  morning  that  was  hers  inviolably, 
and  under  which  Renee  was  eternally  his. 

The  interval  between  then  and  now  was  but  the  space  of 
an  unquiet  sea  traversed  in  the  night,  sad  in  the  passage  of 
it,  but  featureless  —  and  it  had  proved  him  right !  It  was 
to  Nevil  Beauchamp  as  if  the  spirit  of  his  old  passion  woke 
up  again  to  glorious  hopeful  morning  when  he  stood  in 
Renee^s  France. 

Tourdestelle  enjoyed  the  aristocratic  privilege  of  being 
twelve  miles  from  the  nearest  railway  station.  Alighting 
here  on  an  evening  of  clear  sky,  Beauchamp  found  an 
English  groom  ready  to  dismount  for  him  and  bring  on  his 
portmanteau.  The  man  said  that  his  mistress  had  been 
twice  to  the  station,  and  was  now  at  the  neighbouring 
Chateau  Dianet.  Thither  Beauchamp  betook  himself  on 
horseback.  He  was  informed  at  the  gates  that  Madame  la 
marquise  had  left  for  Tourdestelle  in  the  saddle  only  ten 
minutes  previously.  The  lodge-keeper  had  been  instructed 
to  invite  him  to  stay  at  Chateau  Dianet  in  the  event  of  his 
arriving  late,  but  it  would  be  possible  to  overtake  Madame 
by  a  cut  across  the  heights  at  a  turn  of  the  valley.  Beau- 
champ pushed  along  the  valley  for  this  visible  projection ; 
a  towering  mass  of  woodland,  in  the  midst  of  which  a  nar- 
row roadway,  worn  like  the  track  of  a  torrent  with  heavy 
rain,  wound  upward.  On  his  descent  to  the  farther  side, 
he  was  to  spy  directly  below  in  the  flat  for  Tourdestelle. 
He  crossed  the  wooded  neck  above  the  valley,  and  began 
descending,  peering  into  gulfs  of  the  twilight  dusk.  Some 
paces  down  he  was  aided  by  a  brilliant  half-moon  that 
divided  the  whole  underlying  country  into  sharp  outlines  of 
dark  and  fair,  and  while  endeavouring  to  distinguish  the 
chateau  of  Tourdestelle  his  eyes  were  attracted  to  an  angle 
of  the  downward  zigzag,  where  a  pair  of  horses  emerged 
into  broad  light  swiftly ;  apparently  the  riders  were  dis- 


202  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAKEER 

puting,  or  one  had  overtaken  the  other  in  pursuit.  Riding- 
habit  and  plumed  hat  signalized  the  sex  of  one.  Beauchanip 
sung  out  a  gondolier's  cry.  He  fancied  it  was  answered. 
He  was  heard,  for  the  lady  turned  about,  and  as  he  rode 
down,  still  uncertain  of  her,  she  came  cantering  up  alone, 
and  there  could  be  no  uncertainty. 

Moonlight  is  friendless  to  eyes  that  would  make  sure  of 
a  face  long  unseen.  It  was  Eenee  whose  hand  he  clasped, 
but  the  story  of  the  years  on  her,  and  whether  she  was  in 
bloom,  or  wan  as  the  beams  revealing  her,  he  could  not 
see. 

Her  tongue  sounded  to  him  as  if  it  were  loosened  with- 
out a  voice.  "  You  have  come.  That  storm  !  You  are 
safe  ! " 

So  phantom-like  a  sound  of  speech  alarmed  him.  "I 
lost  no  time.     But  you  ?  " 

"lam  well." 

"  Nothing  haugs  over  you  ?  " 

"Nothing." 

"  Why  give  me  just  three  days  ?  " 

"Pure  impatience.     Have  you  forgotten  me  ?  " 

Their  horses  walked  on  with  them.  They  unlocked  their 
hands. 

"  You  knew  it  was  I  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Who  else  could  it  be  ?     I  heard  Venice,"  she  replied. 

Her  previous  cavalier  was  on  his  feet,  all  but  on  his 
knees,  it  appeared,  searching  for  something  that  eluded 
him  under  the  road-side  bank.  He  sprang  at  it  and  waved 
it,  leapt  in  the  saddle,  and  remarked,  as  he  drew  up  beside 
Renee :  "  What  one  picks  from  the  earth  one  may  wear, 
I  presume,  especially  when  we  can  protest  it  is  our 
property." 

Beauchamp  saw  him  planting  a  white  substance  most 
carefully  at  the  breast  buttonhole  of  his  coat.  It  could 
hardly  be  a  flower.  Some  drooping  exotic  of  the  conserva- 
tory perhaps  resembled  it. 

Renee  pronounced  his  name :  "  M.  le  comte  Henri 
d'Henriel." 

He  bowed  to  Beauchamp  with  an  extreme  sweep  of  the 
hat. 

"  Last  night,  M.  Beauchamp,  we  put  up  vows  for  you  to 


TOURDESTELLE  203 

the  Marine  God,  beseeching  an  exemption  from  that  hor- 
rible mal  de  mer.  Thanks  to  the  storm,  I  suppose,  I  have 
won.     I  must  maintain,  madame,  that  I  won." 

"You  wear  your  trophy,"  said  Eenee,  and  her  horse 
reared  and  darted  ahead. 

The  gentleman  on  each  side  of  her  struck  into  a  trot. 
Beauchamp  glanced  at  M.  d*Henriel's  breast-decoration. 
Kenee  pressed  the  pace,  and  threading  dense  covers  of 
foliage  they  reached  the  level  of  the  valley,  where  for  a 
couple  of  miles  she  led  them,  stretching  away  merrily,  now 
in  shadow,  now  in  moonlight,  between  high  land  and 
meadow  land,  and  a  line  of  poplars  in  the  meadows  wind- 
ing with  the  river  that  fed  the  vale  and  shot  forth  gleams 
of  silvery  disquiet  by  rustic  bridge  and  mill. 

The  strangeness  of  being  beside  her,  not  having  yet 
scanned  her  face,  marvelling  at  her  voice  —  that  was  like 
and  unlike  the  Renee  of  old,  full  of  her,  but  in  another  key, 
a  mellow  note,  maturer  —  made  the  ride  magical  to  Beau- 
champ,  planting  the  past  in  the  present  like  a  perceptible 
ghost. 

Renee  slackened  speed,  saying:  " Tourdestelle  spans  a 
branch  of  our  little  river.  This  is  our  gate.  Had  it  been 
daylight  I  would  have  taken  you  by  another  way,  and  you 
would  have  seen  the  black  tower  burnt  in  the  Revolution  ; 
an  imposing  monument,  I  am  assured.  However,  you  will 
think  it  pretty  beside  the  stream.  Do  you  come  with  us, 
M.  le  comte  ?  " 

His  answer  was  inaudible  to  Beauchamp  ;  he  did  not  quit 
them. 

The  lamp  at  the  lodge-gates  presented  the  young  man's 
face  in  full  view,  and  Beauchamp  thought  him  supremely 
handsome.  He  perceived  it  to  be  a  lady's  glove  that  M. 
d'Henriel  wore  at  his  breast. 

Renee  walked  her  horse  up  the  park-drive,  alongside  the 
bright  running  water.  It  seemed  that  she  was  aware  of  the 
method  of  provoking  or  reproving  M.  d'Henriel.  He  en- 
dured some  minutes  of  total  speechlessness  at  this  pace,  and 
abruptly  said  adieu  and  turned  back. 

Ren^e  bounded  like  a  vessel  free  of  her  load.  "  But  why 
should  we  hurry  ?  "  said  she,  and  checked  her  course  to  the 
walk  again.     "  I  hope  you  will  like  our  Normandy,  and  my 


204  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

valley.  You  used  to  love  France,  Nevil ;  and  Kormandy, 
the}^  tell  me,  is  cousin  to  the  opposite  coast  of  England,  in 
climate,  soil,  people,  it  may  be  in  manners  too.  A  Beau- 
champ  never  can  feel  that  he  is  a  foreigner  in  Normandy. 
We  claim  you  half  French.  You  have  grander  parks,  they 
say.     We  can  give  you  sunlight." 

"  And  it  was  really  only  the  wish  to  see  me  ? "  said 
Beauchamp. 

**  Only,  and  really.  One  does  not  live  for  ever  —  on 
earth  ;  and  it  becomes  a  question  whether  friends  should  be 
shadows  to  one  another  before  death.  I  wrote  to  you  be- 
cause I  wished  to  see  you :  I  was  impatient  because  I  am 
Renee." 

"  You  relieve  me  ! " 

"  Evidently  you  have  forgotten  my  character,  Nevil." 

"  Not  a  feature  of  it." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  breathed  involuntarily. 

"  Would  you  have  me  forget  it  ?  " 

"When  I  think  by  myself,  quite  alone,  yes,  I  would. 
Otherwise  how  can  one  hope  that  one's  friend  is  friendship, 
supposing  him  to  read  us  as  we  are  — minutely,  accurately? 
And  it  is  in  absence  that  we  desire  our  friends  to  be  friend- 
ship itself.  And  .  .  .  and  I  am  utterly  astray !  I  have  not 
dealt  in  this  language  since  I  last  thought  of  writing  a 
diary,  and  stared  at  the  first  line.  If  I  mistake  not,  you  are 
fond  of  the  picturesque.  If  moonlight  and  water  will 
satisfy  you,  look  yonder." 

The  moon  launched  her  fairy  silver  fleets  on  a  double 
sweep  of  the  little  river  round  an  island  of  reeds  and  two 
tall  poplars. 

"  I  have  wondered  whether  I  should  ever  see  you  looking 
at  that  scene,"  said  Eenee. 

He  looked  from  it  to  her,  and  asked  if  Eoland  was  well, 
and  her  father ;  then  alluded  to  her  husband ;  but  the 
unlettering  elusive  moon,  bright  only  in  the  extension  of  her 
beams,  would  not  tell  him  what  story  this  face,  once  heaven 
to  him,  wore  imprinted  on  it.  Her  smile  upon  a  parted 
mouth  struck  him  as  two-edged  in  replying :  "  I  have  good 
news  to  give  you  of  them  all:  Roland  is  in  garrison  at 
Rouen,  and  will  come  when  I  telegraph.  My  father  is 
in  Touraine,  and   greets  you  affectionately;   he  hopes  to 


TOUBDESTELLE  205 

come.     They  are  both  perfectly  happy.     My  husband  is 
travelling." 

Beauchamp  was  conscious  of  some  bitter  taste  :  unaware 
of  what  it  was,  though  it  led  him  to  say,  undesigningly : 
"  How  very  handsome  that  M.  d'Henriel  is  !  —  if  I  have  his 
name  correctly.'' 

Een^e  answered  :  **  He  has  the  misfortune  to  be  consid- 
ered the  handsomest  young  man  in  France." 

"  He  has  an  Italian  look." 

"  His  mother  was  Proven9ale." 

She  put  her  horse  in  motion,  saying :  "  I  agree  with  you 
that  handsome  men  are  rarities.  And,  by  the  way,  they  do 
not  set  ow  world  on  fire  quite  as  much  as  beautiful  women 
do  yours,  my  friend.    Acknowledge  so  much  in  our  favour." 

He  assented  indefinitely.  He  could  have  wished  himself 
away  canvassing  in  Be vi sham.  He  had  only  to  imagine 
himself  away  from  her,  to  feel  the  flood  of  joy  in  being  with 
her. 

"  Your  husband  is  travelling  ?  " 

"It  is  his  pleasure." 

Could  she  have  intended  to  say  that  this  was  good  news 
to  give  of  him  as  well  as  of  the  happiness  of  her  father 
and  brother  ? 

"Now  look  on  Tourdestelle,"  said  Renee.  "You  will 
avow  that  for  an  active  man  to  be  condemned  to  seek  repose 
in  so  dull  a  place,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  season  in  Paris, 
it  is  considerably  worse  than  for  women,  so  I  am  here  to 
dispense  the  hospitalities.  The  right  wing  of  the  chateau, 
on  your  left,  is  new.  The  side  abutting  the  river  is  in- 
habited by  Dame  Philiberte,  whom  her  husband  imprisoned 
for  attempting  to  take  her  pleasure  in  travel.  I  hear  upon 
authority  that  she  dresses  iu  white,  and  wears  a  black  cru- 
cifix. She  is  many  centuries  old,  and  still  she  lives  to 
remind  people  that  she  married  a  Rouaillout.  Do  you  not 
think  she  should  have  come  to  me  to  welcome  me  ?  She 
never  has  ;  and  possibly  of  ladies  who  are  disembodied  we 
may  say  that  they  know  best.  For  me,  I  desire  the  inter- 
view—  and  I  am  a  coward:  I  need  not  state  it."  She 
ceased  ;  presently  continuing  :  "  The  other  inhabitants  are 
my  sister,  Agnes  d'Auffray,  wife  of  a  general  officer  serving 
in  Africa  —  my  sister  by  marriage,  and  my  friend;  the 


206  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

baronne  d'Orbec,  a  relation  by  marriage ;  M.  d'Orbec,  her 
son,  a  guest,  and  a  sportsman ;  M.  Livret,  an  erudite.  No 
young  ladies  :  I  can  bear  much,  but  not  their  presence ; 
girls  are  odious  to  me.     I  knew  one  in  Venice.'' 

They  came  within  the  rays  of  the  lamp  hanging  above 
the  unpretending  entrance  to  the  chateau.  Renee's  broad 
grey  Longueville  hat  curved  low  with  its  black  plume  on 
the  side  farthest  from  him.  He  was  favoured  by  the  gal- 
lant lift  of  the  brim  on  the  near  side,  but  she  had  over- 
shadowed her  eyes. 

"  He  wears  a  glove  at  his  breast,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  You  speak  of  M.  d^Henriel.  He  wears  a  glove  at  his 
breast ;  yes,  it  is  mine,"  said  Renee. 

She  slipped  from  her  horse  and  stood  against  his  shoulder, 
as  if  waiting  to  be  questioned  before  she  rang  the  bell  of 
the  chateau. 

Beauchamp  alighted,  burning  with  his  unutterable  ques- 
tions concerning  that  glove. 

"Lift  your  hat,  let  me  beg  you;  let  me  see  you,"  he  said. 

This  was  not  what  she  had  expected.  With  one  heave 
of  her  bosom,  and  murmuring,  "I  made  a  vow  I  would 
obey  you  absolutely  if  you  came,"  she  raised  the  hat  above 
her  brows,  and  lightning  would  not  have  surprised  him 
more ;  for  there  had  not  been  a  single  vibration  of  her 
voice  to  tell  him  of  tears  running :  nay,  the  absence  of  the 
usual  French  formalities  in  her  manner  of  addressing  him, 
had  seemed  to  him  to  indicate  her  intention  to  put  him  at 
once  on  an  easy  friendly  footing,  such  as  would  be  natural 
to  her,  and  not  painful  to  him.  Now  she  said  :  "  You  per- 
ceive, monsieur,  that  I  have  my  sentimental  fits  like  others ; 
but  in  truth  I  am  not  insensible  to  the  picturesque  or  to 
gratitude,  and  I  thank  you  sincerely  for  coming,  consider- 
ing that  I  wrote  like  a  Sphinx  —  to  evade  writing  comme 
unefolUr^ 

She  swept  to  the  bell. 

Standing  in  the  arch  of  the  entrance,  she  stretched  her 
whip  out  to  a  black  mass  of  prostrate  timber,  saying  :  "  It 
fell  in  the  storm  at  two  o'clock  after  midnight,  and  you  on 
the  sea  J " 


HIS  HOLIDAY  207 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

HIS    HOLIDAY 

A  SINGLE  day  was  to  be  the  term  of  his  holiday  at  Tour- 
destelle;  but  it  stood  forth  as  one  of  those  perfect  days 
which  are  rounded  by  an  evening  before  and  a  morning 
after,  giving  him  two  nights  under  the  same  roof  with 
Renee,  something  of  a  resemblance  to  three  days  of  her; 
anticipation  and  wonder  filling  the  first,  she  the  next,  the 
adieu  the  last :  every  hour  filled.  And  the  first  day  was 
not  over  yet.  He  forced  himself  to  calmness,  that  he 
might  not  fritter  it,  and  walked  up  and  down  the  room  he 
was  dressing  in,  examining  its  foreign  decorations,  and 
peering  through  the  window,  to  quiet  his  nerves.  He  was 
in  her  own  France  with  her  !  The  country  borrowed  hues 
from  Renee,  and  lent  some.  This  chivalrous  France  framed 
and  interlaced  her  image,  aided  in  idealizing  her,  and  was 
in  turn  transfigured.  Not  half  so  well  would  his  native 
land  have  pleaded  for  the  forgiveness  of  a  British  damsel 
who  had  wrecked  a  young  man's  immoderate  first  love. 
That  glorified  self-love  requires  the  touch  upon  imagina- 
tion of  strangeness  and  an  unaccustomed  grace,  to  subdue  , 
it  and  make  it  pardon  an  outrage  to  its  temples  and  altars, 
and  its  happy  reading  of  the  heavens,  the  earth  too :  earth 
foremost,  we  ought  perhaps  to  say.  It  is  an  exacting 
heathen,  best  understood  by  a  glance  at  what  will  appease 
it :  beautiful,  however,  as  everybody  has  proved ;  and  shall 
it  be  decried  in  a  world  where  beauty  is  not  overcommon, 
though  it  would  slaughter  us  for  its  angry  satisfaction,  yet 
can  be  soothed  by  a  tone  of  colour,  as  it  were  by  a  novel 
inscription  on  a  sweetmeat  ? 

The  peculiarity  of  Beauchamp  was  that  he  knew  the 
slenderness  of  the  thread  which  was  leading  him,  and  fore- 
saw it  twisting  to  a  coil  unless  he  should  hold  firm.  HiS' 
work  in  life  was  much  above  the  love  of  a  woman  in  his 
estimation,  so  he  was  not  deluded  by  passion  when  he 
entered  the  chateau ;  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  would  not 
hesitatingly  have  sacrificed  one  of  the  precious  votes  in 


208  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAKEEB 

Bevisham  for  the  pleasure  of  kissing  her  hand  when  they 
were  on  the  steps.  She  was  his  first  love  and  only  love, 
marriec^,  and  long  ago  forgiven  :  —  married ;  that  is  to  say, 
she  especially  among  women  was  interdicted  to  him  by  the 
lingering  shadow  of  the  reverential  love  gone  by  j  and  if 
the  anguish  of  the  lover's  worse  than  death  survived  in  a 
shudder  of  memory  at  the  thought  of  her  not  solely  lost  to 
him  but  possessed  by  another,  it  did  but  quicken  a  hunger 
that  was  three  parts  curiosity  to  see  how  she  who  had 
suffered  this  bore  the  change ;  how  like  or  unlike  she  might 
be  to  the  extinct  Eenee ;  what  traces  she  kept  of  the  face 
he  had  known.  Her  tears  were  startling,  but  tears  tell  of 
a  mood,  they  do  not  tell  the  story  of  the  years ;  and  it  was 
that  story  he  had  such  eagerness  to  read  in  one  brief  reve- 
lation :  an  eagerness  born  only  of  the  last  few  hours,  and 
broken  by  fears  of  a  tarnished  aspect ;  these  again  being 
partly  hopes  of  a  coming  disillusion  that  would  restore  him 
his  independence  and  ask  him  only  for  pity.  The  slavery 
of  the  love  of  a  woman  chained  like  Eenee  was  the  most 
revolting  of  prospects  to  a  man  who  cherished  his  freedom 
that  he  might  work  to  the  end  of  his  time.  Moreover,  it 
swung  a  thunder-cloud  across  his  holiday.  He  recurred  to 
the  idea  of  the  holiday  repeatedly,  and  the  more  he  did  so 
the  thinner  it  waned.  He  was  exhausting  the  very  air  and 
spirit  of  it  with  a  mind  that  ran  incessantly  forward  and 
back;  and  when  he  and  the  lady  of  so  much  speculation 
were  again  together,  an  incapacity  of  observation  seemed  to 
have  come  over  him.  In  reality  it  w^as  the  inability  to 
reflect  on  his  observations.  Her  presence  resembled  those 
dark  sunsets  throwing  the  spell  of  colour  across  the  world ; 
when  there  is  no  question  with  us  of  morning  or  of  night, 
but  of  that  sole  splendour  only. 

Owing  to  their  arrival  late  at  the  chateau,  covers  were 
laid  for  them  in  the  boudoir  of  Madame  la  marquise,  where 
he  had  his  hostess  to  himself,  and  certainly  the  opportunity 
of  studying  her.  An  Eoglish  Navy  List  solitary  on  a  shelf, 
and  laid  within  it  an  extract  of  a  paper  announcing  the 
return  of  the  Ariadne  to  port,  explained  the  mystery  of  her 
knowing  that  he  was  in  England,  as  well  as  the  correctness 
of  the  superscription  of  her  letter  to  him.  "You  see,  I 
follow  you,"  she  said. 


HIS  HOLIDAT  209 

Beauchamp  asked  if  she  read  English  now. 

"  A  little ;  but  the  paper  was  dispatched  to  me  by  M. 
Vivian  Ducie,  of  your  embassy  in  Paris.  He  is  in  the 
valley." 

The  name  of  Ducie  recalled  Lord  Palmet's  description  of 
the  dark  beauty  of  the  fluttering  pale  gold  ornaments.  She 
was  now  dressed  without  one  decoration  of  gold  or  jewel, 
with  scarcely  a  wave  in  the  silk,  a  modesty  of  style  eloquent 
of  the  pride  of  her  form. 

Could  those  eyes  fronting  him  under  the  lamp  have 
recently  shed  tears  ?  They  were  the  living  eyes  of  a  bril- 
liant unembarrassed  lady ;  shields  flinging  light  rather  than 
well-depths  inviting  it. 

Beauchamp  tried  to  compare  her  with  the  Kenee  of 
Venice,  and  found  himself  thinking  of  the  glove  she  had 
surrendered  to  the  handsomest  young  man  in  France.  The 
effort  to  recover  the  younger  face  gave  him  a  dead  creature, 
with  the  eyelashes  of  Renee,  the  cast  of  her  mouth  and 
throat,  misty  as  a  shape  in  a  dream. 

He  could  compare  her  with  Cecilia,  who  never  would  have 
risked  a  glove,  never  have  betrayed  a  tear,  and  was  the 
statelier  lady,  not  without  language :  but  how  much  less 
vivid  in  feature  and  the  gift  of  speech !  Renee's  gift  of 
speech  counted  unnumbered  strings  which  she  played  on 
with  a  grace  that  clothed  the  skill,  and  was  her  natural 
endowment  —  an  art  perfected  by  the  education  of  the 
world.  Who  cannot  talk  !  —  but  who  can  ?  Discover  the 
writers  in  a  day  when  all  are  writing  !  It  is  as  rare  an  art 
as  poetry,  and  in  the  mouths  of  women  as  enrapturing,  richer 
than  their  voices  in  music. 

This  was  the  fascination  Beauchamp  felt  weaving  round 
him.  Would  you,  that  are  separable  from  boys  and  mobs, 
and  the  object  malignly  called  the  Briton,  prefer  the 
celestial  singing  of  a  woman  to  her  excellently  talking  ? 
But  not  if  it  were  given  you  to  run  in  unison  with  her  genius 
of  the  tongue,  following  her  verbal  ingenuities  and  femi- 
nine silk  flashes  of  meaning ;  not  if  she  led  you  to  match 
her  fine  quick  perceptions  with  more  or  less  of  the  discreet 
concordance  of  the  violoncello  accompanying  the  viol.  It 
is  not  high  flying,  which  usually  ends  in  heavy  falling. 
You  quit  the  level  of  earth  no  more  than  two,  birds  that 

44 


210  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

chase  from  bush  to  bush  to  bill  in  air,  for  mutual  delight 
to  make  the  concert  heavenly.  Language  flowed  from 
Kenee  in  affinity  with  the  pleasure-giving  laws  that  make 
the  curves  we  recognize  as  beauty  in  sublimer  arts.  Accept 
companionship  for  the  dearest  of  the  good  things  we  pray 
to  have,  and  what  equalled  her  !     Who  could  be  her  rival ! 

Her  girl's  crown  of  irradiated  Alps  began  to  tremble  over 
her  dimly,  as  from  moment  to  moment  their  intimacy 
warmed,  and  Beauchamp  saw  the  young  face  vanishing  out 
of  this  flower  of  womanhood.  He  did  not  see  it  appearing 
or  present,  but  vanishing  like  the  faint  ray  in  the  rosier. 
JSTay,  the  blot  of  her  faithlessness  underwent  a  transforma- 
tion :  it  affected  him  somewhat  as  the  patch  cunningly  laid 
on  near  a  liquid  dimple  in  fair  cheeks  at  once  allures  and 
evades  a  susceptible  attention. 

Unused  in  his  French  of  late,  he  stumbled  at  times,  and 
she  supplied  the  needed  phrase,  taking  no  note  of  a  blunder. 
Now  men  of  sweet  blood  cannot  be  secretly  accusing  or 
criticizing  a  gracious  lady.  Domestic  men  are  charged  with 
thinking  instantly  of  dark  death  when  an  ordinary  illness 
befalls  them  ;  and  it  may  be  so  or  not :  but  it  is  positive 
that^the  gallant  man  of  the  world,  if  he  is  in  the  sensitivp 
condition,  and  not  yet  established  as  the  lord  of  her,  feels 
paralyzed  in  his  masculine  sense  of  leadership  the  moment 
his  lady  assumes  the  initiative  and  directs  him  :  he  gives 
up  at  once ;  and  thus  have  many  nimble-witted  dames  from 
one  clear  start  retained  their  advantage. 

Concerning  that  glove  :  well !  the  handsomest  young  man 
in  France  wore  the  glove  of  the  loveliest  woman.  The 
loveliest  ?  The  very  loveliest  in  the  purity  of  her  French 
style — the  woman  to  challenge  England  for  a  type  of 
beauty  to  eclipse  her.  It  was  possible  to  conceive  her 
country  wagering  her  against  all  women. 

If  Eenee  had  faults,  Beauchamp  thought  of  her  as  at  sea 
breasting  tempests,  while  Cecilia  was  a  vessel  lying  safe  in 
harbour,  untried,  however  promising :  and  if  Cecilia  raised 
a  steady  light  for  him,  it  was  over  the  shores  he  had  left 
behind,  while  Eenee  had  really  nothing  to  do  with  warning 
or  rescuing,  or  with  imperilling ;  she  welcomed  him  simply 
to  a  holiday  in  her  society.  He  associated  Cecilia  strangely 
with  the  political  labours  she  would  have  had  him  relin- 


HIS   HOLIDAY  211 

quish ;  and  Renee  with  a  pleasant  state  of  indolence,  that 
her  lightest  smile  disturbed.     Shun  comparisons. 

It  is  the  tricksy  heart  which  sets  up  that  balance,  to  jump 
into  it  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Comparisons  come  of  a 
secret  leaning  that  is  sure  to  play  rogue  under  its  mien  of 
honest  dealer:  so  Beauchamp  suffered  himself  to  be  unjust 
to  graver  England,  and  lost  the  strength  she  would  have 
given  him  to  resist  a  bewitchment.  The  case  with  him  was, 
that  his  apprenticeship  was  new ;  he  had  been  trotting  in 
harness  as  a  veritable  cab-horse  of  politics  —  he  by  blood  a 
racer ;  and  his  nature  craved  for  diversions,  against  his  will, 
against  his  moral  sense  and  born  tenacity  of  spirit. 

Not  a  word  further  of  the  glove.  But  at  night,  in  his 
bed,  the  glove  was  a  principal  actor  in  events  of  extraor- 
dinary magnitude  and  inconsequence. 

He  was  out  in  the  grounds  with  the  early  morning  light. 
Coffee  and  sweet  French  bread  were  brought  out  to  him, 
and  he  was  informed  of  the  hours  of  reunion  at  the  chateau, 
whose  mistress  continued  invisible.  She  might  be  sleep- 
ing. He  strolled  about,  within  view  of  the  windows,  won- 
dering at  her  subservience  to  sleep.  Tourdestelle  lay  in 
one  of  those  Norman  valleys  where  the  river  is  the  mother 
'of  rich  pasture,  and  runs  hidden  between  double  ranks  of 
sallo^vrs,  aspens  and  poplars,  that  mark  its  winding  line  in 
the  arms  of  trenched  meadows.  The  high  land  on  either 
side  is  an  unwatered  flat  up  to  the  horizon,  little  varied  by 
dusty  apple-trees  planted  in  the  stubble  here  and  there, 
and  brown  mud  walls  of  hamlets ;  a  church-top,  a  copse,  an 
avenue  of  dwarf  limes  leading  to  the  three-parts  farm, 
quarter  residence  of  an  enriched  peasant  striking  new  roots, 
or  decayed  proprietor  pinching  not  to  be  severed  from 
ancient.  Descending  on  the  deep  green  valley  in  Summer 
is  like  a  change  of  climes.  The  cMteau  stood  square  at  a 
branch  of  the  river,  tossing  three  light  bridges  of  pretty 
woodwork  to  park  and  garden.  Great  bouquets  of  swelling 
blue  and  pink  hydrangea  nestled  at  its  feet  on  shaven 
grass.  An  open  window  showed  a  cloth  of  colour,  as  in 
a  reminiscence  of  Italy. 

Beauchamp  heard  himself  addressed  :  "  You  are  looking 
for  my  sister-in-law,  M.  Beauchamp?  '' 

The  speaker  was  Madame   d'Auffray,  to  whom  he  had 


212  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

been  introduced  over  night  —  a  lady  of  the  aquiline  French 
outline,  not  ungentle. 

Ken^e  had  spoken  affectionately  of  her,  he  remembered. 
There  was  nothing  to  make  him  be  on  his  guard,  and  he 
stated  that  he  was  looking  for  Madame  de  Kouaillout,  and 
did  not  conceal  surprise  at  the  information  that  she  was  out 
on  horseback. 

"  She  is  a  tireless  person,"  Madame  d'Auffray  remarked. 
"  You  will  not  miss  her  long.  We  all  meet  at  twelve,  as 
you  know." 

"  I  grudge  an  hour,  for  I  go  to-morrow,"  said  Beauchamp. 

The  notification  of  so  early  a  departure,  or  else  his  blunt- 
ness,  astonished  her.  She  fell  to  praising  Renee's  goodness. 
He  kept  her  to  it  with  lively  interrogations,  in  the  manner 
of  a  guileless  boy  urging  for  eulogies  of  his  dear  absent 
friend.     Was  it  duplicity  in  him  or  artlessness  ? 

"  Has  she,  do  you  think,  increased  in  beauty  ?  "  Madame 
d'Auffray  inquired :  an  insidious  question,  to  which  he 
replied,  — 

'^  Once  I  thought  it  would  be  impossible." 

Not  so  bad  an  answer  for  an  Englishman,  in  a  country 
where  speaking  is  fencing ;  the  race  being  little  famous  for 
dialectical  alertness  :  but  was  it  artful  or  simple  ? 

They  skirted  the  chateau,  and  Beauchamp  had  the  history 
of  Dame  Philiberte  recounted  to  him,  with  a  mixture  of 
Gallic  irony,  innuendo,  openness,  touchingness,  ridicule,  and 
charity  novel  to  his  ears.  Madame  d'Auffray  struck  the 
note  of  intimacy  earlier  than  is  habitual.  She  sounded  him 
in  this  way  once  or  twice,  carelessly  perusing  him,  and 
waiting  for  the  interesting  edition  of  the  Book  of  Man  to 
summarize  its  character  by  showing  its  pages  or  remaining 
shut.  It  was  done  delicately,  like  the  tap  of  a  finger-nail 
on  a  vase.  He  rang  clear  ;  he  had  nothing  to  conceal ;  and 
where  he  was  reserved,  that  is,  in  speaking  of  the  developed 
beauty  and  grace  of  Renee,  he  was  transparent.  She  read 
the  sort  of  man  he  was ;  she  could  also  hazard  a  guess  as  to 
the  man's  present  state.  She  ventured  to  think  him  com- 
paratively harmless  —  for  the  hour :  for  she  was  not  the 
woman  to  be  hoodwinked  by  man's  dark  nature  because  she 
inclined  to  think  well  of  a  particular  man ;  nor  was  she  one 
to  trust  to  any  man  subject  to  temptation.     The  wisdom  of 


HIS  HOLIDAY  213 

the  Frenchwoman's  fortieth  year  forbade  it.  A  land  where 
the  war  between  the  sexes  is  honestly  acknowledged,  and  is 
full  of  instruction,  abounds  in  precepts ;  but  it  ill  becomes 
the  veteran  to  practise  rigorously  what  she  would  prescribe 
to  young  women.  She  may  discriminate  ;  as  thus  :  —  Trust 
no  man.  Still,  this  man  may  be  better  than  that  man ;  and 
it  is  bad  policy  to  distrust  a  reasonably  guileless  member  of 
the  preying  sex  entirely,  and  so  to  lose  his  good  services. 
Hawks  have  their  uses  in  destroying  vermin ;  and  though 
we  cannot  rely  upon  the  taming  of  hawks,  one  tied  by  the 
leg  in  a  garden  preserves  the  fruit. 

"There  is  a  necessity  for  your  leaving  us  to-morrow, 
M.  Beauchamp  ?  " 

"  I  regret  to  say,  it  is  imperative,  madame." 

"  My  husband  will  congratulate  me  on  the  pleasure  I  have, 
and  have  long  desired,  of  making  your  acquaintance,  and  he 
will  grieve  that  he  has  not  been  so  fortunate ;  he  is  on 
service  in  Africa.  My  brother,  I  need  not  say,  will  deplore 
the  mischance  which  has  prevented  him  from  welcoming 
you.  I  have  telegraphed  to  him  ;  he  is  at  one  of  the  Baths 
in  Germany,  and  will  come  assuredly,  if  there  is  a  prospect 
of  finding  you  here.  None  ?  Supposing  my  telegram  not 
to  fall  short  of  him,  I  may  count  on  his  being  here  within 
four  days." 

Beauchamp  begged  her  to  convey  the  proper  expressions 
of  his  regret  to  M.  le  marquis. 

"  And  M.  de  Groisnel  ?  And  Koland,  your  old  comrade 
and  brother-in-arms  ?  What  will  be  their  disappointment !  '* 
she  said. 

"  I  intend  to  stop  for  an  hour  at  Rouen  on  my  way  back," 
said  Beauchamp, 

She  asked  if  her  belle-soeur  was  aware  of  the  short  limita- 
tion of  his  visit. 

He  had  not  mentioned  it  to  Madame  la  marquise. 

"  Perhaps  you  may  be  moved  by  the  grief  of  a  friend : 
Een^e  may  persuade  you  to  stay." 

"  I  came  imagining  I  could  be  of  some  use  to  Madame  la 
marquise.     She  writes  as  if  she  were  telegraphing." 

"  Perfectly  true  of  her !  For  that  matter,  I  saw  the 
letter.  Your  looks  betray  a  very  natural  jealousy ;  but 
seeing  it  or  not  it  would  have  been  the  same  :   she  and  I 


214  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

have  no  secrets.  She  was,  I  may  tell  you,  strictly  unable 
to  write  more  words  in  the  letter.  Which  brings  me  to 
inquire  what  impression  M.  d'Henriel  made  on  you  yester- 
day evening." 

"  He  is  particularly  handsome." 
•  "We   women  think   so.     Did  you  take  him  to  be  .  .  . 
eccentric  ?  " 

Beauchamp  gave  a  French  jerk  of  the  shoulders. 

It  confessed  the  incident  of  the  glove  to  one  who  knew  it 
as  well  as  he  :  but  it  masked  the  weight  he  was  beginning 
to  attach  to  that  incident,  and  Madame  d'Auffray  was  mis- 
led. Truly,  the  English  man  may  be  just  such  an  ex-lover, 
uninflammable  by  virtue  of  his  blood's  native  coldness  ; 
endued  with  the  frozen  vanity  called  pride,  which  does  not 
seek  to  be  revenged.  Under  wary  espionage,  he  might  be 
a  young  woman's  friend,  though  male  friend  of  a  half- 
abandoned  wife  should  write  himself  down  morally  saint, 
mentally  sage,  medically  incurable,  if  he  would  win  our 
confidence. 

This  lady  of  sharp  intelligence  was  the  guardian  of  Renee 
during  the  foolish  husband's  flights  about  Paris  and  over 
Europe,  and,  for  a  proof  of  her  consummate  astuteness, 
Eenee  had  no  secrets  and  had  absolute  liberty.  And 
hitherto  no  man  could  build  a  boast  on  her  reputation. 
The  liberty  she  would  have  had  at  any  cost,  as  Madame 
d'Auffray  knew ;  and  an  attempt  to  restrict  it  would  have 
created  secrets. 

Near  upon  the  breakfast-hour  Eenee  was  perceived  by 
them  going  toward  the  chateau  at  a  walking  pace.  They 
crossed  one  of  the  garden  bridges  to  intercept  her.  She 
started  out  of  some  deep  meditation,  and  raised  her  whip 
hand  to  Beauchamp's  greeting.  "I  had  forgotten  to  tell 
you,  monsieur,  that  I  should  be  out  for  some  hours  in  the 
morning." 

"Are  you  aware,"  said  Madame  d'Auffray,  "that  M. 
Beauchamp  leaves  us  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  So  soon  ?  "  It  was  uttered  hardly  with  a  tone  of  dis- 
appointment. 

The  marquise  alighted,  crying  hola  to  the  stables,  ca- 
ressed her  horse,  and  sent  him  off  with  a  smack  on  the 
smoking  flanks  to  meet  the  groom. 


HIS   HOLIDAY  215 

"  Tomorrow  ?  That  is  very  soon ;  but  M.  Beaucliairip  is 
engaged  in  an  Election,  and  what  have  we  to  induce  him  to 
stay?" 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  to  tell  M.  Beauchamp  why  he 
was  invited  to  come  ?  "  rejoined  Madame  d'Auffray. 

The  sombre  light  in  E-enee's  eyes  quickened  through 
shadowy  spheres  of  surprise  and  pain  to  resolution.  She 
cried,  "  You  have  my  full  consent,"  and  left  them. 

Madame  d'Auffray  smiled  at  Beauchamp,  to  excuse  the 
childishness  of  the  little  story  she  was  about  to  relate ;  she 
gave  it  in  the  essence,  without  a  commencement  or  an  end- 
ing. She  had  in  fact  but  two  or  three  hurried  minutes 
before  the  breakfast-bell  would  ring ;  and  the  fan  she 
opened  and  shut,  and  at  times  shaded  her  head  with,  was 
nearly  as  explicit  as  her  tongue. 

He  understood  that  Renee  had  staked  her  glove  on  his 
coming  within  a  certain  number  of  hours  to  the  briefest 
wording  of  invitation  possible.  Owing  to  his  detention  by 
the  storm,  M.  d'Henriel  had  won  the  bet,-  and  now  insisted 
on  wearing  the  glove.  ^*  He  is  the  privileged  young  mad- 
man our  women  make  of  a  handsome  youth,"  said  Madame 
d'Auffray. 

Where  am  I  ?  thought  Beauchamp  —  in  what  land,  he 
would  have  phrased  it,  of  whirlwinds  catching  the  wits, 
and  whipping  the  passions  ?  Calmer  than  they,  but  unable 
to  command  them,  and  guessing  that  Renee's  errand  of  the 
morning,  by  which  he  had  lost  hours  of  her,  pertained  to 
the  glove,  he  said  quiveringly,  "Madame  la  marquise 
objects  ?  " 

"We,"  replied  Madame  d*Auffray,  "contend  that  the 
glove  was  not  loyally  won.  The  wager  was  upon  your 
coming  to  the  invitation,  not  upon  your  conquering  the 
elements.  As  to  his  flaunting  the  glove  for  a  favour,  I 
would  ask  you,  whom  does  he  advertize  by  that  ?  Gloves 
do  not  wear  white ;  which  fact  compromises  none  but  the 
wearer.  He  picked  it  up  from  the  ground,  and  does  not 
restore  it ;  that  is  all.  You  see  a  boy  who  catches  at  any- 
thing to  placard  himself.  There  is  a  compatriot  of  yours, 
a  M.  Ducie,  who  assured  us  you  must  be  with  an  uncle  in 
your  county  of  Sussex.  Of  course  we  ran  the  risk  of  the 
letter  missing  you,  but  the  chance  was  worth  a  glove.    Can 


216  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

you  believe  it,  M.  Beaucliamp  ?  it  was  I,  old  woman  as  I 
am,  I  who  provoked  the  silly  wager.  I  have  long  desired 
to  meet  you  ;  and  we  have  little  society  here,  we  are  des- 
'perate  with  loneliness,  half  mad  with  our  whims.  I  said, 
that,  if  you  were  what  I  had  heard  of  you,  yon  would  come 
to  us  at  a  word.  They  dared  Madame  la  marquise  to  say 
the  same.  I  wished  to  see  the  friend  of  Frenchmen,  as  TM. 
Roland  calls  you ;  not  merely  to  see  him  —  to  know  him, 
whether  he  is  this  perfect  friend  whose  absolute  devotion 
has  impressed  my  dear  sister  Renee's  mind.  She  respects 
you :  that  is  a  sentiment  scarcely  complimentary  to  the 
ideas  of  young  men.  She  places  you  above  human  crea- 
tures :  possibly  you  may  not  dislike  to  be  worshipped.  It 
is  not  to  be  rejected  when  one's  influence  is  powerful  for 
good.     But  you  leave  us  to-morrow  !  '^ 

"I  might  stay  .  .  ."  Beauchamp  hesitated  to  name 
the  number  of  hours.  He  stood  divided  between  a  sense 
of  the  bubbling  shallowness  of  the  life  about  him,  and  a 
thought,  grave  as  an  eye  dwelling  on  blood,  of  sinister 
things  below  it. 

"I  may  stay  another  day  or  two,"  he  said,  "if  I  can 
be  of  any  earthly  service." 

Madame  d'Auffray  bowed  as  to  a  friendly  decision  on  his 
part,  saying  :  "  It  would  be  a  thousand  pities  to  disappoint 
M.  Roland  ;  and  it  will  be  offering  my  brother  an  amicable 
chance.  I  will  send  him  word  that  you  await  him ;  at 
least,  that  you  defer  your  departure  as  long  as  possible. 
Ah !  now  you  perceive,  M.  Beauchamp,  now  you  have 
become  aware  of  our  purely  infantile  plan  to  bring  you 
over  to  us,  how  very  ostensible  a  punishment  it  would  be 
were  you  to  remain  so  short  a  period." 

Having  no  designs,  he  was  neither  dupe  nor  sceptic ;  but 
he  felt  oddly  entangled,  and  the  dream  of  his  holiday  had 
fled  like  morning's  beams,  as  a  self-deception  will  at  a  very 
gentle  shaking. 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  BOAT  217 

CHAPTER  XXV 

THE    ADVENTURE    OP    THE    BOAT 

Madame  d'Auffray  passed  Renee,  whispering  on  her 
way  to  take  her  seat  at  the  breakfast-table. 

Renee  did  not  condescend  to  whisper.  "Roland  will 
be  glad,"   she  said  aloud. 

Her  low  eyelids  challenged  Beauchamp  for  a  look  of 
indifference.  There  was  more  for  her  to  unbosom  than 
Madame  d'Auffray  had  revealed,  but  the  comparative  inno- 
cence of  her  position  in  this  new  light  prompted  her  to 
meet  him  defiantly,  if  he  chose  to  feel  injured.  He  was 
attracted  by  a  happy  contrast  of  colour  between  her  dress 
and  complexion,  together  with  a  cavalierly  charm  in  the 
sullen  brows  she  lifted ;  and  seeing  the  reverse  of  a  look  of 
indifference  on  his  face,  after  what  he  had  heard  of  her 
frivolousness,  she  had  a  fear  that  it  existed. 

"  Are  we  not  to  have  M.  d'Henriel  to-day  ?  he  amuses 
me,''   the  baronne  d'Orbec  remarked. 

"If  he  would  learn  that  he  was  fashioned  for  that  pur- 
pose ! "  exclaimed  little  M.  Livret. 

"  Do  not  ask  young  men  for  too  much  head,  my  friend ; 
he  would  cease  to  be  amusing." 

"  D'Henriel  should  have  been  up  in  the  fields  at  ten  this 
morning,"  said  M.  d'Orbec.  "  As  to  his  head,  I  back  him 
for  a  clever  shot." 

"Or  a  duelling-sword,"  said  Renee.  "It  is  a  quality, 
count  it  for  what  we  will.  Your  favourite,  Madame  la 
baronne,  is  interdicted  from  presenting  himself  here  so 
long  as  he  persists  in  offending  me." 

She  was  requested  to  explain,  and,  with  the  fair  ingenu- 
ousness which  outshines  innocence,  she  touched  on  the 
story  of  the  glove. 

Ah !  what  a  delicate,  what  an  exciting,  how  subtle  a 
question ! 

Had  M.  d'Henriel  the  right  to  possess  it  ?  and,  having 
that,  had  he  the  right  to  wear  it  at  his  breast  ? 

Beauchamp  was  dragged  into  the  discussion  of  the  case. 


218  BEAITCHAMP'S  CAEEEB 

Een^e  waited  curiously  for  his  judgement. 

Pleading  an  apology  for  the  stormy  weather,  which  had 
detained  him,  and  for  his  ignorance  that  so  precious  an 
article  was  at  stake,  he  held,  that  by  the  terms  of  the 
wager,  the  glove  was  lost ;  the  claim  to  wear  it  was  a  mat- 
ter of  taste. 

"  Matters  of  taste,  monsieur,  are  not,  I  think,  decided  by 
weapons  in  your  country  ?  "  said  M.  d^Orbec. 

"  We  have  no  duelling,"  said  Beauchamp, 

The  Frenchman  imagined  the  confession  to  be  somewhat 
humbling,  and  generously  added,  *'  But  you  have  your 
volunteers  —  a  magnificent  spectacle  of  patriotism  and 
national  readiness  for  defence  ! " 

A  shrewd  pang  traversed  Beauchamp's  heart,  as  he 
looked  back  on  his  country  from  the  outside  and  the  inside, 
thinking  what  amount  of  patriotic  readiness  the  character 
of  the  volunteering  signified,  in  the  face  of  all  that  England 
has  to  maintain.  Like  a  politic  islander,  he  allowed  the 
patriotic  spectacle  to  be  imagined ;  reflecting  that  it  did  a 
sort  of  service  abroad,  and  had  only  to  be  unmasked  at 
home. 

**  But  you  surrendered  the  glove,  marquise  !  "  The 
baronne  d'Orbec  spoke  judicially. 

"  I  flung  it  to  the  ground :  that  made  it  neutral,"  said 
E,enee. 

"  Hum.     He  wears  it  with  the  dust  on  it,  certainly." 

"And  for  how  long  a  time,"  M.  Livret  wished  to  know, 
"  does  this  amusing  young  man  proclaim  his  intention  of 
wearing  the  glove  ?  " 

"  Until  he  can  see  with  us  that  his  Order  of  Merit  is 
utter  kid,"  said  Madame  d'Auffray  ;  and  as  she  had  spoken 
more  or  less  neatly,  satisfaction  was  left  residing  in  the  ear 
of  the  assembly,  and  the  glove  was  permitted  to  be  swept 
away  on  a  fresh  tide  of  dialogue. 

The  admirable  candour  of  E-enee  in  publicly  alluding  to 
M.  d'Henriel's  foolishness  restored  a  peep  of  his  holiday  to 
Beauchamp.  Madame  d'Auffray  took  note  of  the  effect  it 
produced,  and  quite  excused  her  sister-in-law  for  intending 
to  produce  it ;  but  that  speaking  out  the  half-truth  that  we 
may  put  on  the  mask  of  the  whole,  is  no  new  trick ;  and 
believing  as  she  did  that  Een^e  was  in  danger  with  the 


THE  ADYENTUKE  OP  THE  BOAT  219 

handsome  Count  Henri,  the  practice  of  such  a  kind  of 
honesty  on  her  part  appeared  alarming. 

Still  it  is  imprudent  to  press  for  confidences  when  our 
friend's  heart  is  manifestly  trifling  with  sincerity.  Who 
knows  but  that  some  foregone  reckless  act  or  word  may 
have  superinduced  the  healthy  shame  which  cannot  speak, 
which  must  disguise  itself,  and  is  honesty  in  that  form, 
but  roughly  troubled  would  resolve  to  rank  dishonesty  ? 
So  thought  the  patient  lady,  wiser  in  that  than  in  her 
perceptions. 

Renee  made  a  boast  of  not  persuading  her  guest  to  stay, 
avowing  that  she  would  not  willingly  have  him  go.  Prais- 
ing him  equably,  she  listened  to  praise  of  him  with  anima- 
tion. She  was  dumb  and  statue-like  when  Count  Henri's 
name  was  mentioned.  Did  not  this  betray  liking  for  one, 
subjection  to  the  other?  Indeed,  there  was  an  Asiatic 
splendour  of  animal  beauty  about  M.  d'Henriel  that  would 
be  serpent  with  most  women,  Madame  d' Auffray  conceived ; 
why  not  with  the  deserted  Ren^e,  who  adored  beauty  of 
shape  and  colour,  and  was  compassionate  toward  a  rashness 
of  character  that  her  own  unnatural  solitariness  and  quick 
spirit  made  her  emulous  of  ? 

Meanwhile  Beauchamp's  day  of  adieu  succeeded  that  of 
his  holiday,  and  no  adieu  was  uttered.  The  hours  at  Tour- 
destelle  had  a  singular  turn  for  slipping.  Interlinked  and 
all  as  one  they  swam  by,  brought  evening,  brought  morn- 
ing, never  varied.  They  might  have  varied  with  such  a 
division  as  when  flame  lights  up  the  night  or  a  tempest 
shades  the  day,  had  Renee  chosen  ;  she  had  that  power 
over  him.  She  had  no  wish  to  use  it ;  perhaps  she  appre- 
hended what  it  would  cause  her  to  forfeit.  She  wished 
him  to  respect  her  ;  felt  that  she  was  under  the  shadow  of 
the  glove,  slight  though  it  was  while  it  was  nothing  but  a 
tale  of  a  lady  and  a  glove ;  and  her  desire,  like  his,  was 
that  they  should  meet  daily  and  dream  on,  without  a 
variation.  He  noticed  how  seldom  she  led  him  beyond  the 
grounds  of  the  chateau.  They  were  to  make  excursions 
when  her  brother  came,  she  said.  Roland  de  Croisnel's 
colonel,  Coin  de  Grandchamp,  happened  to  be  engaged  in  a 
duel,  which  great  business  detained  Roland.  It  supplied 
Beauchamp  with  an  excuse  for  staying,  that  he  was  angry 


220  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

twith  himself  for  being  pleased  to  have  ;  so  he  attacked  the 
/practice  of  duelling,  and  next  the  shrug,  wherewith  M. 
Livret  and  M.  d'Orbec  sought  at  first  to  defend  the  foul 
custom,  or  apologize  for  it,  or  plead  for  it  philosophically, 
or  altogether  cast  it  off  their  shoulders  ;  for  the  literal 
interpretation  of  the  shrug  in  argument  is  beyond  human 
capacity ;  it  is  the  point  of  speech  beyond  our  treasury  of 
language.  He  attacked  the  shrug,  as  he  thought,  very  tem- 
perately ;  but  in  controlling  his  native  vehemence  he  grew, 
perforce  of  repression,  and  of  incompetency  to  deliver  him- 
self copiously  in  French,  sarcastic.  In  fine,  his  contrast  of 
the  pretence  of  their  noble  country  to  head  civilization,  and 
its  encouragement  of  a  custom  so  barbarous,  offended  M. 
d'Orbec  and  irritated  M.  Livret. 

The  latter  delivered  a  brief  essay  on  Gallic  blood ;  the 
former  maintained  that  Frenchmen  were  the  best  judges  of 
their  own  ways  and  deeds.  Politeness  reigned,  but  polite- 
ness is  compelled  to  throw  off  cloak  and  jacket  when  it 
steps  into  the  arena  to  meet  the  encounter  of  a  bull.  Beau- 
champ  drew  on  their  word  ^^  solidaire"  to  assist  him  in  de- 
claring that  no  civilized  nation  could  be  thus  independent. 
Imagining  himself  in  the  France  of  brave  ideas,  he  con- 
trived to  strike  out  sparks  of  Legitimist  ire  around  him, 
and  found  himself  breathing  the  atmosphere  of  the  most 
primitive  nursery  of  Toryism.  Again  he  encountered  the 
shrug,  and  he  would  have  it  a  verbal  matter.  M.  d'Orbec 
gravely  recited  the  programme  of  the  country  party  in 
France.  M.  Livret  carried  the  war  across  Channel.  You 
English  have  retired  from  active  life,  like  the  exhausted 
author,  to  turn  critic  —  the  critic  that  sneers  :  unless  we 
copy  you  abjectly  we  are  execrable.  And  what  is  that 
sneer  ?  Materially  it  is  an  acrid  saliva,  withering  where 
it  drops  ;  in  the  way  of  fellowship  it  is  a  corpse-emanation. 
As  to  wit,  the  sneer  is  the  cloak  of  clumsiness ;  it  is  the 
Pharisee's  incense,  the  hypocrite's  pity,  the  post  of  exalta- 
tion of  the  fat  citizen,  &c.  ;  but,  said  M.  Livret,  the  people 
using  it  should  have  a  care  that  they  keep  powerful :  they 
make  no  friends.  He  terminated  with  this  warning  to  a 
nation  not  devoid  of  superior  merit.  M.  d'Orbec  said  less, 
and  was  less  consoled  by  his  outburst. 

In  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Vivian  Ducie,  present  at  the  dis- 


TECE  ADVENTURE   OF  THE  BOAT  221 

cussion,  Beauchamp  provoked  the  lash  ;  for  in  the  first 
place,  a  beautiful  woman's  apparent  favourite  should  be 
particularly  discreet  in  all  that  he  says :  and  next,  he 
should  have  known  that  the  Gallic  shrug  over  matters  polit- 
ical is  volcanic  —  it  is  the  heaving  of  the  mountain,  and, 
like  the  proverbial  Russ,  leaps  up  Tartarly  at  a  scratch. 
Our  newspapers  also  had  been  flea-biting  M.  Livret  and  his 
countrymen  of  late  ;  and,  to  conclude,  over  in  old  England 
you  may  fly  out  against  what  you  will,  and  there  is  little 
beyond  a  motherly  smile,  a  nurse's  rebuke,  or  a  fool's  rude- 
ness to  answer  you.  In  quick-blooded  France  you  have 
whip  for  whip,  sneer,  sarcasm,  claw,  fang,  tussle,  in  a  trice ; 
and  if  you  choose  to  comport  yourself  according  to  your 
insular  notion  of  freedom,  you  are  bound  to  march  out  to 
the  measured  ground  at  an  invitation.  To  begin  by  saying 
that  your  principles  are  opposed  to  it,  naturally  excites  a 
malicious  propensity  to  try  your  temper. 

A  further  cause,  unknown  to  Mr.  Ducie,  of  M.  Livret's 
irritation  was,  that  Beauchamp  had  vexed  him  on  a  subject 
peculiarly  dear  to  him.  The  celebrated  Chateau  Dianet 
was  about  to  be  visited  by  the  guests  at  Tourdestelle.  In 
common  with  some  French  philosophers  and  English  ma- 
trons, he  cherished  a  sentimental  sad  enthusiasm  for  royal 
concubines ;  and  when  dilating  upon  one  among  them,  the 
ruins  of  whose  family's  castle  stood  in  the  neighbourhood 
—  Agnes,  who  was  really  a  kindly  soul,  though  not  virtu- 
ous —  M.  Liveret  had  been  traversed  by  Beauchamp  with 
questions  as  to  the  condition  of  the  people,  the  peasantry, 
that  were  sweated  in  taxes  to  support  these  lovely  frailties. 
They  came  oddly  from  a  man  in  the  fire  of  youth,  and  a 
little  old  gentleman  somewhat  seduced  by  the  melting 
image  of  his  theme  might  well  blink  at  him  to  ask,  of  what 
flesh  are  you,  then?  His  historic  harem  was  insulted. 
Personally  too,  the  fair  creature  picturesquely  soiled,  in- 
trepid in  her  amorousness,  and  ultimately  absolved  by 
repentance  (a  shuddering  narrative  of  her  sins  under 
showers  of  salt  drops),  cried  to  him  to  champion  her. 
Excited  by  the  supposed  cold  critical  mind  in  Beauchamp, 
M.  Livret  painted  and  painted  his  lady,  tricked  her  in''* 
casuistical  niceties,  scenes  of  pomp  and  boudoir  pathos, 
with  many  shifting  sidelights  and  a  risky  word  or  two, 


222 

until  Eenee  cried  out,  "Spare  us  the  esprit  Gaulois,  M. 
Livret ! "  There  was  much  to  make  him  angry  with  this 
Englishman. 

"  The  esprit  Gaulois  is  the  sparkle  of  crystal  common 
sense,  madame,  and  may  we  never  abandon  it  for  a  Pu- 
ritanism that  hides  its  face  to  conceal  its  filthiness,  like  a 
stagnant  pond,''  replied  M.  Livret  flashing. 

"  It  seems,  then,  that  there  are  two  ways  of  being  objec- 
tionable," said  Renee. 

"  Ah  !  Madame  la  marquise,  your  wit  is  French,"  he 
breathed  low  ;    "  keep  your  heart  so  !  " 

Both  M.  Livret  and  M.  d'Orbec  had  forgotten  that  when 
Count  Henri  d'Henriel  was  received  at  Tourdestelle,  the 
arrival  of  the  Englishman  was  pleasantly  anticipated  by 
them  as  an  eclipse  of  the  handsome  boy;  but  a  foreign 
interloper  is  quickly  dispossessed  of  all  means  of  pleasing 
save  that  one  of  taking  his  departure  ;  and  they  now  talked 
of  Count  Henri's  disgrace  and  banishment  in  a  very  warm 
spirit  of  sympathy,  not  at  all  seeing  why  it  should  be  made 
to  depend  upon  the  movements  of  this  M.  Beauchamp,  as 
it  appeared  to  be.  Madame  d'Auffray  heard  some  of  their 
dialogue,  and  hurried  with  a  mouth  full  of  comedy  to  Renee, 
who  did  not  reproach  them  for  silly  beings,  as  would  be 
done  elsewhere.  On  the  contrary,  she  appreciated  a  scene 
of  such  absolute  comedy,  recognizing  it  instantly  as  a  situa- 
tion plucked  out  of  human  nature.  She  compared  them  to 
republicans  that  regretted  the  sovereign  they  had  deposed 
for  a  pretender  to  start  up  and  govern  them. 

"  Who  hurries  them  round  to  the  legitimate  king  again !  " 
said  Madame  d'Auffray. 

Eenee  cast  her  chin  up.     "  How,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Your  husband." 

"What  of  him?" 

"  He  is  returning." 

"  What  brings  him  ?  " 

"  You  should  ask  who,  my  Renee !  I  was  sure  he  would 
not  hear  of  M.  Beauchamp's  being  here,  without  an  effort 
to  return  and  do  the  honours  of  the  chateau." 

Renee  looked  hard  at  her,  saying,  "  How  thoughtful  of 
you !  You  must  have  made  use  of  the  telegraph  wires  to 
jnforn)  hipi  that  M.  Beauchamp  was  with  u§," 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF  THE  BOAT        223 

"  More  ;  I  made  use  of  them  to  inform  liim  tliat  M.  Beau- 
champ  was  expected." 

"  And  that  was  enough  to  bring  him !  He  pays  M. 
Beauchamp  a  wonderful  compliment." 

"Such  as  he  would  pay  to  no  other  man,  my  Kenee. 
Virtually  it  is  the  highest  of  compliments  to  you.  I  say 
that  to  M.  Beauchamp's  credit ;  for  Kaoul  has  met  him, 
and,  whatever  his  personal  feeling  may  be,  must  know  your 
friend  is  a  man  of  honour." 

"  My  friend  is  .  .  .  yes,  I  have  no  reason  to  think  other- 
wise," K-enee  replied.  Her  husband^s  persistent  and  exclu- 
sive jealousy  of  Beauchamp  was  the  singular  point  in  the 
character  of  one  who  appeared  to  have  no  sentiment  of  the 
kind  as  regarded  men  that  were  much  less  than  men  of 
honour.  "  So,  then,  my  sister  Agnes,"  she  said,  "  you  sug- 
gested the  invitation  of  M.  Beauchamp  for  the  purpose  of 
spurring  my  husband  to  return  !  Apparently  he  and  I  are 
surrounded  by  plotters." 

"  Am  I  so  very  guilty  ?  "  said  Madame  d'Auffray. 

"If  that  mad  boy,  half  idiot,  half  panther,  were  by 
chance  to  insult  M.  Beauchamp,  you  would  feel  so." 

"You  have  taken  precautions  to  prevent  their  meeting; 
and  besides,  M.  Beauchamp  does  not  fight." 

Renee  flushed  crimson. 

Madame  d'Auffray  added,  "  I  do  not  say  that  he  is  other 
than  a  perfectly  brave  and  chivalrous  gentleman." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Renee,  "  do  not  say  it,  if  ever  you  should 
imagine  it.  Bid  Eoland  speak  of  him.  He  is  changed, 
oppressed :  I  did  him  a  terrible  wrong.  .  .  ."  She  checked 
;  herself.  "  But  the  chief  thing  to  do  is  to  keep  M.  d'Henriel 
■  away  from  him.  I  suspect  M.  d'Orbec  of  a  design  to  make 
them  clash :  and  you,  my  dear,  will  explain  whj^,  to  flatter 
me.  Believe  me,  I  thirst  for  flattery ;  I  have  had  none 
since  M.  Beauchamp  came :  and  you,  so  acute,  must  have 
seen  the  want  of  it  in  my  face.  But  you,  so  skilful,  Agnes, 
will  manage  these  men.  Do  you  know,  Agnes,  that  the 
pride  of  a  woman  so  incredibly  clever  as  you  have  shown 
me  you  are  should  resent  their  intrigues  and  overthrow 
them.  As  for  me,  I  thought  I  could  command  M.  d'Henriel, 
and  I  find  he  has  neither  reason  in  him  nor  obedience. 
Singular  to  say,  I  knew  him  just  as  well  a  week  back  as 


224  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

I  do  now,  and  then  I  liked  him  for  his  qualities  —  or  the 
absence  of  any.  But  how  shall  we  avoid  him  on  the  road 
to  Dianet  ?     He  is  aware  that  we  are  going." 

"Take  M.  Beau  champ  by  boat,"  said  Madame  d'Auffray. 

"The  river  winds  to  within  a  five  minutes'  walk  of 
Dianet;  we  could  go  by  boat,"  Kenee  said  musingly.  "I 
thought  of  the  boat.  But  does  it  not  give  the  man  a 
triumph  that  we  should  seem  to  try  to  elude  him  ?  What 
matter !  Still,  I  do  not  like  him  to  be  the  falcon,  and 
Nevil  Beauchamp  the  .  .  .  little  bird.  So  it  is,  because 
we  began  badly,  Agnes  ! " 

"  Was  it  my  fault  ?  " 

"  Mine.    Tell  me :  the  legitimate  king  returns  —  when  ?  " 

"In  two  days  or  three." 

"  And  his  rebel  subjects  are  to  address  him  —  how  ?  " 

Madame  d'Auffray  smote  the  point  of  a  finger  softly  on 
her  cheek. 

"  Will  they  be  pardoned  ?  "  said  Eenee. 

"  It  is  for  him  to  kneel,  my  dearest." 

"  Legitimacy  kneeling  for  forgiveness  is  a  painful  picture, 
Agnes.  Legitimacy  jealous  of  a  foreigner  is  an  odd  one. 
However,  we  are  women,  born  to  our  lot.  If  we  could  rise 
en  masse  !  — but  we  cannot.     Embrace  me." 

Madame  d'Auffray  embraced  her,  without  an  idea  that 
she  assisted  in  performing  the  farewell  of  their  confidential 
intimacy. 

When  Eenee  trifled  with  Count  Henri,  it  was  playing 
with  fire,  and  she  knew  it ;  and  once  or  twice  she  bemoaned 
to  Agnes  d'Auffray  her  abandoned  state,  which  condemned 
her,  for  the  sake  of  the  sensation  of  living,  to  have  recourse 
to  perilous  pastimes  ;  but  she  was  revolted,  as  at  a  piece  of 
treachery,  that  Agnes  should  have  suggested  the  invitation 
of  Nevil  Beauchamp  with  the  secret  design  of  winning 
home  her  husband  to  protect  her.  This,  for  one  reason, 
was  because  Beauchamp  gave  her  no  notion  of  danger; 
none,  therefore,  of  requiring  protection  ;  and  the  presence  of 
her  husband  could  not  but  be  hateful  to  him,  an  undeserved 
infliction.  To  her  it  was  intolerable  that  they  should  be 
brought  into  contact.  It  seemed  almost  as  hard  that  she 
should  have  to  dismiss  Beauchamp  to  preclude  their  meet- 
ing.   She  remembered,  nevertheless,  a  certain  desperation 


THE  ADVENTURE  OF   THE   BOAT  225 

of  mind,  scarce  imaginable  in  the  retrospect,  by  which, 
trembling,  fever-smitten,  scorning  herself,  she  had  been 
reduced  to  hope  for  Nevil  Beauchamp's  coming  as  for  a 
rescue.  The  night  of  the  storm  had  roused  her  heart. 
Since  then  his  perfect  friendliness  had  lulled,  his  air  of 
thoughtfulness  had  interested  it;  and  the  fancy  that  he, 
who  neither  reproached  nor  sentimentalized,  was  to  be 
infinitely  compassionated,  stirred  up  remorse.  She  could 
not  tell  her  friend  Agnes  of  these  feelings  while  her  feel- 
ings were  angered  against  her  friend.  So  she  talked  lightly 
of  "  the  legitimate  king,"  and  they  embraced :  a  situation 
of  comedy  quite  as  true  as  that  presented  by  the  humble 
admirers  of  the  brilliant  chatelaine. 

Beauchamp  had  the  pleasure  of  rowing  Madame  la  mar- 
quise to  the  short  shaded  walk  separating  the  river  from 
Chateau  Dianet,  whither  M.  d'Orbec  went  on  horseback,  and 
Madame  d'Auffray  and  M.  Livret  were  driven.  The  por- 
trait of  Diane  of  Dianet  was  praised  for  the  beauty  of  the 
dame,  a  soft-fleshed  acutely  featured  person,  a  fresh-of-the- 
toilette  face,  of  the  configuration  of  head  of  the  cat,  relieved 
by  a  delicately  aquiline  nose  ;  and  it  could  only  be  the  cat 
of  fairy  metamorphosis  which  should  stand  for  that  illus- 
tration :  brows  and  chin  made  an  acceptable  triangle,  and 
eyes  and  mouth  could  be  what  she  pleased  for  mice  or 
monarchs.  M.  Livret  did  not  gainsay  the  impeachment  of 
her  by  a  great  French  historian,  tender  to  women,  to  frail- 
ties in  particular  —  yes,  she  was  cold,  perhaps  grasping  : 
but  dwell  upon  her  in  her  character  of  woman;  conceive 
her  existing,  to  estimate  the  charm  of  her  graciousness. 
Kame  the  two  countries  which  alone  have  produced  the 
WOMAN,  the  ideal  woman,  the  woman  of  art,  whose  beauty, 
grace,  and  wit  offer  her  to  our  contemplation  in  an  atmos- 
phere above  the  ordinary  conditions  of  the  world  :  these 
two  countries  are  France  and  Greece !  None  other  give  you 
the  perfect  woman,  the  woman  who  conquers  time,  as  she 
conquers  men,  by  virtue  of  the  divinity  in  her  blood ;  and 
she,  as  little  as  illustrious  heroes,  is  to  be  judged  by  the 
laws  and  standards  of  lesser  creatures.  In  fashioning  her, 
nature  and  art  have  worked  together :  in  her,  poetry  walks 
the  earth.  The  question  of  good  or  bad  is  entirely  to  be 
put  aside  ;  it  is  a  rustic's  impertinence  —  a  bourgeois'  vul- 

15 


226 

garity.  She  is  pre-eminent,  voil^  tout.  Has  she  grace  and 
beauty  ?  Then  you  are  answered  :  such  possessions  are  an 
assurance  that  her  influence  in  the  aggregate  must  be  for 
good.  Thunder,  destructive  to  insects,  refreshes  earth :  so 
she.  So  sang  the  rhapsodist.  Possibly  a  scholarly  little 
French  gentleman,  going  down  the  grey  slopes  of  sixty  to 
second  childishness,  recovers  a  second  juvenility  in  these 
enthusiasms  ;  though  what  it  is  that  inspires  our  matrons 
to  take  up  with  them  is  unimaginable.  M.  Livret's  ardour 
was  a  contrast  to  the  young  Englishman's  vacant  gaze  at 
Diane,  and  the  symbols  of  her  goddess-ship  running  along 
the  walls,  the  bed,  the  cabinets,  everywhere  that  the  chaste 
device  could  find  frontage  and  a  corner. 

M.  d'Orbec  remained  outside  the  chateau  inspecting  the 
fish-ponds.  When  they  rejoined  him  he  complimented 
Beauchamp  semi-ironically  on  his  choice  of  the  river's  quiet 
charms  in  preference  to  the  dusty  roads.  Madame  de 
Eouaillout  said,  "  Come,  M.  d'Orbec ;  what  if  you  surrender 
your  horse  to  M.  Beauchamp,  and  row  me  back  ?  "  He 
changed  colour,  hesitated,  and  declined  :  he  had  an  engage- 
ment to  call  on  M.  d'Henriel. 

"  When  did  you  see  him  ?  "  said  she. 

He  was  confused.     "  It  is  not  long  since,  madame." 

"  On  the  road  ?  " 

"  Coming  along  the  road." 

"  And  our  glove  ?  " 

"  Madame  la  marquise,  if  I  may  trust  my  memory,  M. 
d'Henriel  was  not  in  official  costume." 

Renee  allowed  herself  to  be  reassured. 

A  ceremonious  visit  that  M.  Livret  insisted  on  was  paid 
to  the  chapel  of  Diane,  where  she  had  worshipped  and  laid 
her  widowed  ashes,  which,  said  M.  Livret,  the  fiends  of  the 
Kevolution  would  not  let  rest. 

He  raised  his  voice  to  denounce  them. 

It  was  Roland  de  Croisnel  that  answered  :  "  The  Revolu- 
tion was  our  grandmother,  monsieur,  and  I  cannot  hear  her 
abused." 

Renee  caught  her  brother  by  the  hand.  He  stepped  out 
of  the  chapel  with  Beauchamp  to  embrace  him  ;  then  kissed 
Renee,  and,  remarking  that  she  was  pale,  fetched  flooding 
colour  to  her  cheeks.    He  was  hearty  air  to  them  after  th9 


THE  ADVENTUEE  OF  THE  BOAT        227 

sentimentalisin  they  had  been  hearing.  Beauchamp  and  he 
walked  like  loving  comrades  at  school,  questioning,  answer- 
ing, chattering,  laughing,  —  a  beautiful  sight  to  Eenee,  and 
she  looked  at  Agnes  d'Auffray  to  ask  her  whether  "  this 
Englishman"  was  not  one  of  them  in  his  frankness  and 
freshness. 

Roland  stopped  to  turn  to  Renee.  "I  met  D'Henriel  on 
my  ride  here,"  he  said  with  a  sharp  inquisitive  expression 
of  eye  that  passed  immediately. 

"  You  rode  here  from  Tourdestelle,  then,"  said  Renee. 

"Has  he  been  one  of  the  company,  marquise  ?" 

"  Did  he  ride  by  you  without  speaking,  Roland  ?  " 

"Thus."  Roland  described  a  Spanish  caballero's  for- 
mallest  salutation,  saying  to  Beauchamp :  "  Not  the  best 
sample  of  our  young  Frenchman ;  —  woman-spoiled  !  Not 
that  the  better  kind  of  article  need  be  spoiled  by  them  — 
heaven  forbid  that !  Friend  Nevil,"  he  spoke  lower,  "  do 
you  know,  you  have  something  of  the  prophet  in  you  ?  I 
remember  :  much  has  come  true.  An  old  spoiler  of  women 
is  worse  than  one  spoiled  by  them  !  Ah,  well :  and  Madame 
Culling  ?  and  your  seven-feet  high  uncle  ?  And  have  you  a 
fleet  to  satisfy  Nevil  Beauchamp  yet  ?  You  shall  see  a  trial 
of  our  new  field-guns  at  Rouen." 

They  were  separated  with  diflEiculty.  Renee  wished  her 
brother  to  come  in  the  boat;  and  he  would  have  done  so, 
but  for  his  objection  to  have  his  Arab  bestridden  by  a  man 
unknown  to  him. 

"My  love  is  a  four-foot,  and  here's  my  love,"  Roland 
said,  going  outside  the  gilt  gate-rails  to  the  graceful  little 
beast,  that  acknowledged  his  ownership  with  an  arch  and 
swing  of  the  neck  round  to  him. 

He  mounted  and  called,  "  Au  revoir,  M.  le  capitaine." 

"  Au  revoir,  M.  le  commandant,"  cried  Beauchamp. 

"  Admiral  and  marshal,  each  of  us  in  good  season,"  said 
Roland.  "  Thanks  to  your  promotion,  I  had  a  letter  from 
my  sister.     Advance  a  grade,  and  I  may  get  another." 

Beauchamp  thought  of  the  strange  gulf  now  between  him 
and  the  time  when  he  pined  to  be  a  commodore,  and  an 
admiral.  The  gulf  was  bridged  as  he  looked  at  Renee  pet- 
ting Roland's  horse. 

^^  Is  there  in  the  world  so  loveljr  a  Qreature  ?  "  she  said, 


228  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

and  appealed  fondlingly  to  the  beauty  that  brings  out 
beauty,  and,  bidding  it  disdain  rivalry,  rivalled  it  insomuch 
that  in  a  moment  of  trance  Beauchamp  with  his  bodily 
vision  beheld  her,  not  there,  but  on  the  Lido  of  Venice,  shin- 
ing out  of  the  years  gone.  ' 

Old  love  reviving  may  be  love  of  a  phantom  after  all. 
We  can,  if  it  must  revive,  keep  it  to  the  limits  of  a  ghostly 
love.  The  ship  in  the  Arabian  tale  coming  within  the  zone 
of  the  magnetic  mountain,  flies  all  its  bolts  and  bars,  and 
becomes  sheer  timbers,  but  that  is  the  carelessness  of  the 
ship's  captain ;  and  hitherto  Beauchamp  could  applaud  him- 
self for  steering  with  prudence,  while  Benee's  attractions 
walji^  more  than  they  beckoned.  She  was  magnetic  to 
him  asino  other  woman  was.  Then  whither  his  course  but 
homeward  ?  / 

After  they  had  taken  leave  of  their  host  and  hostess  of 
Chateau  " Diane t,  walking  across  a  meadow  to  a  line  of 
charmilles  that  led  to  the  river-side,  he  said,  "Now  I 
have  seen  Boland  I  shall  have  to  decide  upon  going." 

"Wantonly  won  is  deservedly  lost,"  said  Eenee.  "Bu% 
do  not  disappoint  my  Boland  much  because  of  his  foolish 
sister.  Is  he  not  looking  handsome  ?  And  he  is  young  to 
be  a  commandant,  for  we  have  no  interest  at  this  Court. 
They  kept  him  out  of  the  last  war !  My  father  expects  to 
find  you  at  Tourdestelle,  and  how  account  to  him  for  your 
hurried  flight  ?  —  save  with  the  story  of  that  which  brought 
you  to  us  !  " 

"  The  glove  ?  I  shall  beg  for  the  fellow  to  it  before  I 
depart,  marquise." 

"  You  perceived  my  disposition  to  light-headedness,  mon- 
sieur, when  I  was  a  girl." 

"  I  said  that  I  —  But  the  past  is  dust.  Shall  I  ever 
see  you  in  England  ?  " 

"That  country  seems  to  frown  on  me.  But  if  I  do  not 
go  there,  nor  you  come  here,  except  to  imperious  myste- 
rious invitations,  which  will  not  be  repeated,  the  future 
is  dust  as  well  as  the  past:  for  me,  at  least.  Dust  here, 
dust  there !  —  if  one  could  be  like  a  silk- worm,  and  live 
lying  on  the  leaf  one  feeds  on,  it  would  be  a  sort  of  answer 
to  the  riddle  — living  out  of  the  dust,  and  in  the  present. 
I  find  none  in  my  religion.  No  doubt,  Madame  de  Breze 
did :  why  did  you  call  Diane  sq  to  M,  Livret  ?  " 


THE  ADVENTUEE  OF  THE  BOAT  229 

She  looked  at  him  smiling  as  they  came  out  of  the 
shadow  of  the  clipped  trees.  He  was  glancing  about  for 
the  boat. 

"The  boat  is  across  the  river,"  Ren^e  said,  in  a  voice 
that  made  him  seek  her  eyes  for  an  explanation  of  the  dead 
sound.  She  was  very  pale.  "  You  have  perfect  command 
of  yourself  ?     For  my  sake !  "  she  said. 

He  looked  round. 

Standing  up  in  the  boat,  against  the  opposite  bank,  and 
leaning  with  crossed  legs  on  one  of  the  sculls  planted  in 
the  gravel  of  the  river,  Count  Henri  d'Henriel's  handsome 
figure  presented  itself  to  Beauchamp's  gaze. 

With  a  dryness  that  smacked  of  his  uncle  Everard  Rom- 
frey,  Beauchamp  said  of  the  fantastical  posture  of  the 
young  man,   "One  can  do  that  on  fresh  water." 

Renee  did  not  comprehend  the  sailor-sarcasm,  of  the 
remark ;  but  she  also  commented  on  the  statuesque  appear- 
ance of  Count  Henri :  "  Is  the  pose  for  photography  or  for 
sculpture  ?  " 

Neither  of  them  showed  a  sign  of  surprise  or  of  impa- 
tience. 

M.  d'Henriel  could  not  maintain  the  attitude.  He  un- 
crossed his  legs  deliberately,  drooped  hat  in  hand,  and 
came  paddling  over;  apologized  indolently,  and  said,  "I 
am  not,  I  believe,  trespassing  on  the  grounds  of  Tour- 
destelle,   Madame  la  marquise !  " 

"You  happen  to  be  in  my  boat,  M.  le  comte,"  said 
Renee. 

"  Permit  me,  madame. "  He  had  set  one  foot  on  shore, 
with  his  back  to  Beauchamp,  and  reached  a  hand  to  assist 
her  step  into  the  boat. 

Beauchamp  caught  fast  hold  of  the  bows  while  Renee 
laid  a  finger  on  Count  Henri's  shoulder  to  steady  herself. 

The  instant  she  had  taken  her  seat.  Count  Henri  dashed 
the  scull's  blade  at  the  bank  to  push  off  with  her,  but  the 
boat  was  fast.  His  manoeuvre  had  been  foreseen.  Beau- 
champ swung  on  board  like  the  last  seaman  of  a  launch, 
and  crouched  as  the  boat  rocked  away  to  the  stream;  and 
still  Count  Henri  leaned  on  the  scull,  not  in  a  chosen 
attitude,  but  for  positive  support.  He  had  thrown  his 
force  into  the  blow,  to  push  off  triumphantly,  and  leave 


230  BEAUCHAMP*S  CAREER 

his  rival  standing.  It  occurred  that  the  boat's  brief 
resistance  and  rocking  away  agitated  his  artificial  equi- 
poise, and,  by  the  operation  of  inexorable  laws,  the  longer 
he  leaned  across  an  extending  surface  the  more  was  he 
dependent ;  so  that  when  the  measure  of  the  water  exceeded 
the  length  of  his  failing  support  on  land,  there  was  no 
help  for  it :  he  pitched  in.  His  grimace  of  chagrin  at  the 
sight  of  Beauchamp  securely  established,  had  scarcely 
yielded  to  the  grimness  of  feature  of  the  man  who  feels 
he  must  go,  as  he  took  the  plunge ;  and  these  two  emotions 
combined  to  make  an  extraordinary  countenance. 

He  went  like  a  gallant  gentleman;  he  threw  up  his  heels 
to  clear  the  boat,  dropping  into  about  four  feet  of  water, 
and  his  first  remark  on  rising  was,  "I  trust,  madame,  I 
have  not  had  the  "misfortune  to  splash  you." 

Then  he  waded  to  the  bank,  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and 
drew  out  his  moustachios  to  their  curving  ends.  Renee 
nodded  sharply  to  Beauchamp  to  bid  him  row.  He,  with 
less  of  wisdom,  having  seized  the  floating  scull  abandoned 
by  Count  Henri,  and  got  it  ready  for  the  stroke,  said  a 
word  of  condolence  to  the  dripping  man. 

Count  Henri's  shoulders  and  neck  expressed  a  kind  of 
negative  that,  like  a  wet  dog's  shake  of  the  head,  ended  in 
an  involuntary  whole-length  shudder,  dog-like  and  deplor- 
able to  behold.  He  must  have  been  conscious  of  this 
miserable  exhibition  of  himself;  he  turned  to  Beauchamp: 
"You  are,  I  am  informed,  a  sailor,  monsieur.  I  compli- 
ment you  on  your  naval  tactics :  our  next  meeting  will  be 
on  land.  Au  revoir,  monsieur.  Madame  la  marquise,  I 
have  the  honour  to  salute  you." 

With  these  words  he  retreated. 

"Row  quickly,  I  beg  of  you,"  Rene^  said  to  Beauchamp. 
Her  desire  was  to  see  Roland,  and  open  her  heart  to  her 
brother;  for  now  it  had  to  be  opened.  Not  a  minute  must 
be  lost  to  prevent  further  mischief.  And  who  was  guilty  ? 
she.  Her  heart  clamoured  of  her  guilt  to  waken  a  cry  of 
innocence.  A  disdainful  pity  for  the  superb  young  savage 
just  made  ludicrous,  relieved  him  of  blame,  implacable 
though  he  was.  He  was  nothing;  an  accident  —  a  fool. 
But  he  might  become  a  terrible  instrument  of  punishment. 
The  thought  of  that  possibility  gave  it  an  aspect  of  retri- 


THE  ADVENTimE  O^  THE  BOAT  231 

bution,  under  which  her  cry  of  innocence  was  insufferable 
in  its  feebleness.  It  would  have  been  different  with  her 
if  Beauchamp  had  taken  advantage  of  her  fever  of  anxiety, 
suddenly  appeased  by  the  sight  of  him  on  the  evening  of 
his  arrival  at  Tourdestelle  after  the  storm,  to  attempt  a 
renewal  of  their  old  broken  love-bonds.  Then  she  would 
have  seen  only  a  conflict  between  two  men,  neither  of 
whom  could  claim  a  more  secret  right  than  the  other  to  be 
called  her  lover,  and  of  whom  both  were  on  a  common 
footing,  and  partly  despicable.  But  Nevil  Beauchamp  had 
behaved  as  her  perfect  true  friend,  in  the  character  she  had 
hoped  for  when  she  summoned  him.  The  sense  of  her 
guilt  lay  in  the  recognition  that  he  had  saved  her.  From 
what?  From  the  consequences  of  delirium  rather  than 
from  love :  surely  delirium,  founded  on  delusion ;  love  had 
not  existed.  She  had  said  to  Count  Henri :  "  You  speak  to 
me  of  love.  I  was  beloved  when  I  was  a  girl,  before  my 
marriage,  and  for  years  I  have  not  seen  or  corresponded 
with  the  man  who  loved  me,  and  I  have  only  to  lift  my 
finger  now  and  he  will  come  to  me,  and  not  once  will  he 
speak  to  me  of  love."  Those  were  the  words  originating 
the  wager  of  the  glove.  But  what  of  her,  if  Nevil  Beau- 
champ had  not  come  ? 

Her  heart  jumped,  and  she  blushed  ungovernably  in  his 
face,  as  if  he  were  seeing  her  withdraw  her  foot  from  the 
rock's  edge,  and  had  that  instant  rescued  her.  But  how 
came  it  she  had  been  so  helpless?  She  could  ask;  she 
could  not  answer. 

Thinking,  talking  to  her  heart,  was  useless.  The 
deceiver  simply  feigned  utter  condemnation  to  make  par- 
tial comfort  acceptable.  She  burned  to  do  some  act  of 
extreme  self-abasement  that  should  bring  an  unwonted 
degree  of  wrath  on  her  externally,  and  so  re-entitle  her  to 
consideration  in  her  own  eyes.  She  burned  to  be  interro- 
gated, to  have  to  weep,  to  be  scorned,  abused,  and  forgiven 
that  she  might  say  she  did  not  deserve  pardon.  Beau- 
champ was  too  English,  evidently  too  blind,  for  the 
description  of  judge-accuser  she  required;  one  who  would 
worry  her  without  mercy,  until  —  disgraced  by  the  excess 
of  torture  inflicted  —  he  should  reinstate  her  by  as  much 
as  he  had  overcharged  his  accusation,  and  a  little  more. 


232  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

Reasonably  enough,  instinctively  in  fact,  she  shunned  the 
hollow  of  an  English  ear.  A  surprise  was  in  reserve  for 
her. 

Beauchamp  gave  up  rowing.  As  he  rested  on  the  sculls, 
his  head  was  bent  and  turned  toward  the  bank.  Renee 
perceived  an  over-swollen  monster  gourd  that  had  strayed 
from  a  garden  adjoining  the  river,  and  hung  sliding 
heavily  down  the  bank  on  one  greenish  yellow  cheek,  in 
prolonged  contemplation  of  its  image  in  the  mirror  below. 
•Apparently  this  obese  Narcissus  enchained  his  attention. 

She  tapped  her  foot.  "  Are  you  tired  of  rowing,  mon- 
sieur ?  " 

"It  was  exactly  here,"  said  he,  "that  you  told  me  you 
expected  your  husband's  return." 

She  glanced  at  the  gourd,  bit  her  lip,  and,  colouring, 
said,  "  At  what  point  of  the  river  did  I  request  you  to  con- 
gratulate me  on  it  ?  " 

She  would  not  have  said  that,  if  she  had  known  the 
thoughts  at  work  within  him. 

He  set  the  boat  swaying  from  side  to  side ,  and  at  once 
the  hugeous  reflection  of  that  conceivably  self-enamoured 
bulk  quavered  and  distended,  and  was  shattered  in  a 
thousand  dancing  fragments,  to  re-unite  and  recompose  its 
maudlin  air  of  imaged  satisfaction.  , 

She  began  to  have  a  vague  idea  that  he  was  indulging 
grotesque  fancies. 

Very  strangely,  the  ridiculous  thing,  in  the  shape  of 
an  over-stretched  likeness,  that  she  never  would  have  seen 
had  he  indicated  it  directly,  became  transfused  from  his 
mind  to  hers  by  his  abstract,  half -amused  observation  of 
the  great  dancing  gourd  —  that  capering  antiquity,  lum- 
bering volatility,  wandering,  self -adored,  gross  bald  Cupid, 
elatest  of  nondescripts!  Her  senses  imagined  the  impres- 
sions agitating  Beauchamp's,  and  exaggerated  them  be- 
yond limit;  and  when  he  amazed  her  with  a  straight  look 
into  her  eyes,  and  the  words,  "Better  let  it  be  a  youth  — 
and  live,  than  fall  back  to  that !  "  she  understood  him 
immediately ;  and,  together  with  her  old  fear  of  his  impet- 
uosity and  downrightness,  came  the  vivid  recollection, 
like  a  bright  finger  pointing  upon  darkness,  of  what  foul 
destiny,   magnified  by  her  present  abhorrence  of  it,   he 


THE  ADVENTURE  OP  THE  BOAT        233 

would  have  saved  her  from  in  the  days  of  Venice  and 
Touraine,  and  unto  what  loathly  example  of  the  hideous 
grotesque  she,  in  spite  of  her  lover's  foresight  on  her  be- 
half, had  become  allied. 

Face  to  face  as  they  sat,  she  had  no  defence  for  her 
scarlet  cheeks;  her  eyes  wavered. 

"We  will  land  here;  the  cottagers  shall  row  the  boat 
up,"  she  said. 

"Somewhere  —  anywhere,"  said  Beauchamp.  "But  I 
must  speak.  I  will  tell  you  now.  I  do  not  think  you  to 
blame  —  barely ;  not  in  my  sight ;  though  no  man  living 
would  have  suffered  as  I  should.  Probably  some  days 
more  and  you  would  have  been  lost.  You  looked  for  me  ! 
Trust  your  instinct  now  I  'm  with  you  as  well  as  when 
I'm  absent.  Have  you  courage?  that's  the  question. 
You  have  years  to  live.  Can  you  live  them  in  this  place 
—  with  honour  ?  and  alive  really  ?  " 

Renee's  eyes  grew  wide;  she  tried  to  frown,  and  her 
brows  merely  twitched ;  to  speak,  and  she  was  inarticulate. 
His  madness,  miraculous  penetration,  and  the  super- 
masculine  charity  in  him,  unknown  to  the  world  of  young 
men  in  their  treatment  of  women,  excited,  awed,  and 
melted  her.  He  had  seen  the  whole  truth  of  her  rela- 
tions with  M.  d'Henriel !  —  the  wickedness  of  them  in  one 
light,  the  innocence  in  another;  and  without  prompting  a 
confession  he  forgave  her.  Could  she  believe  it?  This 
was  love,  and  manly  love. 

She  yearned  to  be  on  her  feet,  to  feel  the  possibility  of 
an  escape  from  him. 

She  pointed  to  a  landing.  He  sprang  to  the  bank.  "  It 
could  end  in  nothing  else,"  he  said,  "unless  you  beat  cold 
to  me.  And  now  I  have  your  hand,  Renee !  It 's  the 
hand  of  a  living  woman,  you  have  no  need  to  tell  me  that; 
but  faithful  to  her  comrade!  I  can  swear  it  for  her  — 
faithful  to  a  true  alliance  !  You  are  not  married,  you  are 
simply  chained :  and  you  are  terrorized.  What  a  perver- 
sion of  you  it  is  !  It  wrecks  you.  But  with  me  ?  Am  I 
not  your  lover  ?  You  and  I  are  one  life.  What  have  we 
suffered  for  but  to  find  this  out  and  act  on  it  ?  Do  I  not 
know  that  a  woman  lives,  and  is  not  the  rooted  piece  of 
vegetation  hypocrites  and  tyrants  expect  her  to  be  ?     Act 


234  BEAUCH amp's  career 

on  it,  I  say;  own  me,  break  the  chains,  come  to  me;  say, 
Nevil  Beauchamp  or  death  !  And  death  for  you  ?  But 
you  are  poisoned  and  thwarted  —  dying,  as  you  live  now: 
worse,  shaming  the  Renee  I  knew.  Ah  —  Venice !  But 
now  we  are  both  of  us  wiser  and  stronger :  we  have  gone 
through  fire.  Who  foretold  it?  This  day,  and  this  misery 
and  perversion  that  we  can  turn  to  joy,  if  we  will  —  if  you 
will !  No  heart  to  dare  is  no  heart  to  love !  —  answer 
that!  Shall  I  see  you  cower >way  from  me  again?  Not 
this  time!" 

He  swept  on  in  a  flood,  uttered  mad  things,  foolish 
thingSy  and  things  of  an  insight  electrifying  to  her. 
Through  the  cot;tager's  garden,  across  a  field,  and  within 
the  park  gates  of  Tourdestelle  it  continued  unceasingly; 
and  deeply  was  she  won  by  the  rebellious  note  in  all  that 
he  said,  deeply  too  by  his  disregard  of  the  vulgar  arts  of 
wooers:  she  detected  none.  He  did  not  speak  so  much  to 
win  as  to  help  her  to  see  with  her  own  orbs.  Nor  was 
it  roughly  or  chidingly,  though  it  was  absolutely,  that  he 
stripped  her  of  the  veil  a  wavering  woman  will  keep  to 
herself  from  her  heart's  lord  if  she  can. 

They  arrived  long  after  the  boat  at  Tourdestelle,  and 
Beauchamp  might  believe  he  had  prevailed  with  her,  but 
for.  her  forlorn  repetition  of  the  question  he  had  put  to 
her  idly  and  as  a  new  idea,  instead  of  significantly,  with  a 
recollection  and  a  doubt  —  "  Have  I  courage,  Nevil  ?  " 

The  grain  of  common  sense  in  cowardice  caused  her  to 
repeat  it  when  her  reason  was  bedimmed,  and  passion  as- 
sumed the  right  to  show  the  way  of  right  and  wrong. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MB.    BLACKBURN  TUCKHAM 


Some  time  after  Beauchamp  had  been  seen  renewing  his 
canvass  in  Bevisham,  a  report  reached  Mount  Laurels  that 
he  was  lame  of  a  leg.  The  wits  of  the  opposite  camp  re- 
vived the  French  Marquees,  but  it  was  generally  acknowl- 
edged that  he  had  come  back  without  the  lady :  she  was 


MR.   BLACKBURN  TUCKHAM  2S5 

invisible.  Cecilia  Halkett  rode  home  with  her  father  on 
a  dusky  Autumn  evening,  and  found  the  card  of  Com- 
mander Beauchamp  awaiting  her.  He  might  have  stayed 
to  see  her,  she  thought.  Ladies  are  not  customarily  so 
very  late  in  returning  from  a  ride  on  chill  evenings  of 
Autumn.  Only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  was  between  his  visit 
and  her  return.  The  shortness  of  the  interval  made  it 
appear  the  deeper  gulf.  She  noticed  that  her  father  par- 
ticularly inquired  of  the  man-servant  whether  Captain 
Beauchamp  limped.  It  seemed  a  piece  of  kindly  anxiety 
on  his  part.  The  captain  was  mounted,  the  man  said. 
Cecilia  was  conscious  of  rumours  being  abroad  relating  to 
NeviPs  expedition  to  France;  but  he  had  enemies,  and 
was  at  war  with  them,  and  she  held  herself  indifferent  to 
tattle.  This  card  bearing  his  name,  recently  in  his  hand, 
was  much  more  insidious  and  precise.  She  took  it  to  her 
room  to  look  at  it.  Nothing  but  his  name  and  naval  title 
was  inscribed;  no  pencilled  line;  she  had  not  expected  to 
discover  one.  The  simple  card  was  her  dark  light,  as  a 
handkerchief,  a  flower,  a  knot  of  riband,  has  been  for  men 
luridly  illuminated  by  such  small  sparks  to  fling  their 
beams  on  shadows  and  read  the  monstrous  things  for 
truths.  Her  purer  virgin  blood  was  not  inflamed.  She 
read  the  signification  of  the  card  sadly  as  she  did  clearly. 
What  she  could  not  so  distinctly  imagine  was,  how  he 
could  reconcile  the  devotion  to  his  country,  which  he  had 
taught  her  to  put  her  faith  in,  with  his  unhappy  subjection 
to  Madame  de  Rouaillout.  How  could  the  nobler  senti- 
ment exist  side  by  side  with  one  that  was  lawless  ?  Or 
was  the  wildness  characteristic  of  his  political  views  proof 
of  a  nature  inclining  to  disown  moral  ties  ?  She  feared 
so;  he  did  not  speak  of  the  clergy  respectfully.  Eeading 
in  the  dark,  she  was  forced  to  rely  on  her  social  instincts, 
and  she  distrusted  her  personal  feelings  as  much  as  she 
could,  for  she  wished  to  know  the  truth  of  him ;  anything, 
pain  and  heartrending,  rather  than  the  shutting  of  the 
eyes  in  an  unworthy  abandonment  to  mere  emotion  and 
fascination.  Cecilia's  love  could  not  be  otherwise  given  to 
a  man,  however  near  she  might  be  drawn  to  love  —  though 
she  should  suffer  the  pangs  of  love  cruelly. 

She  placed  his  card  in  her  writing-desk;   she  had  his 


286  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

likeness  there.  Commander  Beauchamp  encouraged  the 
art  of  photography,  as  those  that  make  long  voyages  do, 
in  reciprocating  what  they  petition  their  friends  for.  Mrs. 
Rosamund  Culling  had  a  whole  collection  of  photographs 
of  him,  equal  to  a  visual  history  of  his  growth  in  chapters, 
from  boyhood  to  midshipmanship  and  to  manhood.  The 
specimen  possessed  by  Cecilia  was  one  of  a  couple  that 
Beauchamp  had  forwarded  to  Mrs.  Grancey  Lespel  on  the 
day  of  his  departure  for  France,  and  was  a  present  from  that 
lady,  purchased,  like  so  many  presents,  at  a  cost  Cecilia 
would  have  paid  heavily  in  gold  to  have  been  spared, 
namely,  a  public  blush.  She  was  allowed  to  make  her 
choice,  and  she  chose  the  profile,  repeating  a  remark  of 
Mrs.  Culling's,  that  it  suggested  an  arrow-head  in  the  up- 
flight;  whereupon  Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett  had  said,  ^'Then 
there  is  the  man,  for  he  is  undoubtedly  a  projectile ;  "  nor 
were  politically -hostile  punsters  on  an  arrow-head  inac- 
tive. But  Cecilia  was  thinking  of  the  side-face  she  (less 
intently  than  Beauchamp  at  hers)  had  glanced  at  during 
the  drive  into  Bevisham.  At  that  moment,  she  fancied 
Madame  de  Rouaillout  might  be  doing  likewise;  and  oh  • 
that  she  had  the  portrait  of  the  French  lady  as  well ! 

Next  day  her  father  tossed  her  a  photograph  of  another 
gentleman,  coming  out  of  a  letter  he  had  received  from  old 
Mrs.  Beauchamp.  He  asked  her  opinion  of  it.  '  She  said, 
"  I  think  he  would  have  suited  Bevisham  better  than  Cap- 
tain Baskelett."  Of  the  original,  who  presented  himself 
at  Mount  Laurels  in  the  course  of  the  week,  she  had 
nothing  to  say,  except  that  he  was  very  like  the  photo- 
graph, very  unlike  Nevil  Beauchamp.  "  Yes,  there  I  'm 
of  your  opinion,"  her  father  observed.  The  gentleman 
was  Mr.  Blackburn  Tuckham,  and  it  was  amusing  to  find 
an  exuberant  Tory  in  one  who  was  the  reverse  of  the 
cavalier  ty^e.  Hevil  and  he  seemed  to  have  been  sorted 
to  the  wfDng  sides.  Mr.  Tuckham  had  a  round  head, 
square  flat  foreliead,  and  ruddy  face;  he  stood  as  if  his 
feet  claimed  the  earth  under  them  for  his  own,  with  a 
certain  shortness  of  leg  that  detracted  from  the  majesty  of 
his  resemblance  to  our  Eighth  Harry,  but  increased  his  air 
of  solidity;  and  he  was  authoritative  in  speaking.  "Let 
me  set  you  right,  sir,"  he  said  sometimes  to   Colonel 


MR.   BLACKBTJPwN  TUCKHAM  237 

Halkett,  and  that  was  his  modesty.  "  You  are  altogether 
wrong,"  Miss  Halkett  heard  herself  informed,  which  was 
his  courtesy.  He  examined  some  of  her  water-colour 
drawings  before  sitting  down  to  dinner,  approved  of  them, 
but  thought  it  necessary  to  lay  a  broad  hnger  on  them  to 
show  their  defects.  On  the  question  of  politics,  "  I  ven- 
ture to  state,"  he  remarked,  in  anything  but  tlie  tone  of  a 
venture,  "  that  no  educated  man  of  ordinary  sense  who  has 
visited  our  colonies  will  come  back  a  Liberal."  As  for  a 
man  of  sense  and  education  being  a  Radical,  he  scouted 
the  notion  with  a  pooh  sufficient  to  awaken  a  vessel  in 
the  doldrums.  He  said  carelessly  of  Commander  Beau- 
champ,  that  he  might  think  himself  one.  Either  the  Rad- 
ical candidate  for  Bevisham  stood  self-deceived,  or  —  the 
other  supposition.  Mr.  Tuckham  would  venture  to  state 
that  no  English  gentleman,  exempt  from  an  examination 
by  order  of  the  Commissioners  of  Lunacy,  could  be  sin- 
cerely a  Radical.  "Not  a  bit  of  it;  nonsense,"  he  replied 
to  Miss  Halkett's  hint  at  the  existence  of  Radical  views; 
"that  is,  those  views  are  out  of  politics;  they  are  matters 
for  the  police.  Dutch  dykes  are  built  to  shut  away  the 
sea  from  cultivated  land,  and  of  course  it 's  a  part  of  the 
business  of  the  Dutch  Government  to  keep  up  the  dykes, 
and  of  ours  to  guard  against  the  mob;  but  that  is  only  a 
political  consideration  after  the  mob  has  been  allowed  to 
undermine  our  defences." 

"They  speak,"  said  Miss  Halkett,  "of  educating   the 
people  to  fit  them  —  " 

"They  speak  of  commanding  the  winds  and  tides,"  he 
I  cut  her  short,  with  no  clear  analogy ;  "  wait  till  we  have  a 
storm.  It  ^s  a  delusion  amounting  to  dementedness  to 
suppose,  that  with  the  people  inside  our  defences,  we 
can  be  taming  them  and  tricking  them.  As  for  sending 
them  to  school  after  giving  them  power,  it 's  like  asking  a 
wild  beast  to  sit  down  to  dinner  with  us  —  he  wants  the 
whole  table  and  us  too.  The  best  education  for  the  people 
is  government.  They  're  beginning  to  see  that  in  Lanca- 
shire at  last.  I  ran  down  to  Lancashire  for  a  couple  of 
days  on  my  landing,  and  I  'm  thankful  to  say  Lancashire 
is  preparing  to  take  a  step  back.  Lancashire  leads  the 
country.  Lancashire  men  see  what  this  Liberalism  has 
done  for  the  Labour-market." 


238    ^  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

^  "  Captain  Beauchainp  considers  that  the  political  change 
coming  over  the  minds  of  the  manufacturers  is  due  to  the 
large  fortunes  they  have  made,"  said  Miss  Halkett,  mali- 
ciously associating  a  Radical  prophet  with  him. 

He  was  unaffected  by  it,  and  continued:  "Property  is 
ballast  as  well  as  treasure.  I  call  property  funded  good 
sense.  I  would  give  it  every  privilege.  If  we  are  to 
speak  of  patriotism,  I  say  the  possession  of  property  guar- 
antees it.  I  maintain  that  the  lead  of  men  of  property  is 
in  most  cases  sure  to  be  the  safe  one." 

"/think  so,"  Colonel  Halkett  interposed,  and  he  spoke 
as  a  man  of  property. 

Mr.  Tuckham.grew  fervent  in  his  allusions  to  our  wealth 
and  our  commerce.  Having  won  the  race  and  gained  the 
prize,  shall  we  let  it  slip  out  of  our  grasp?  XTpon  this 
topic  his  voice  descended  to  tones  of  priestlike  awe :  foif 
are  we  not  the  envy  of  the  world  ?  Our  wealth  is  count- 
less, fabulous.  It  may  well  inspire  veneration.  And  we 
have  won  it  with  our  hands,  thanks  (he  implied  it  so)  to 
our  religion.  We  are  rich  in  money  and  industry,  in  those 
two  things  only,  and  the'corruption  of  an  energetic  industry 
is  constantly  threatened  by  the  profusion  of  wealth  giving 
it  employment.  This  being  the  case,  either  your  Radicals 
do  not  know  the  first  conditions  of  human  nature,  or  they 
do;  and  if  they  do  they  are  traitors,  and  the  Liberals 
opening  the  gates  to  them  are  fools :  and  some  are  knaves. 
We  perish  as  a  Great  Power  if  we  cease  to  look  sharp 
ahead,  hold  firm  together,  and  make  the  utmost  of  what  we 
possess.  The  word  for  the  performance  of  those  duties 
is  Toryism :  a  word  with  an  older  flavour  than  Conserva- 
tism, and  Mr.  Tuckham  preferred  it.  By  all  means  let 
workmen  be  free  men :  but  a  man  must  earn  his  freedom 
daily,  or  he  will  become  a  slave  in  some  form  or  another: 
and  the  way  to  earn  it  is  by  work  and  obedience  to  right 
direction.  In  a  country  like  ours,  open  on  all  sides  to  the 
competition  of  intelligence  and  strength,  with  a  Press 
that  is  the  voice  of  all  parties  and  of  every  interest;  in  a 
country  offering  to  your  investments  three  and  a  half  and 
more  per  cent.,  secure  as  the  firmament!  — • 

He  perceived  an  amazed  expression  on  Miss  Halkett's 
countenance  J   and  "Ay,"  said  he^  "that  means  the  cer- 


MR.   BLACK  BUKN   TUCKHAM  239 

tainty  of  food  to  millions  of  mouths,  and  comforts,  if  not 
luxuries,  to  half  the  population.  A.  safe  pereentage  on 
savings  is  the  basis  of  civilizatiou." 

But  he  had  bruised  his  eloquence,  for  though  you  may 
start  a  sermon  from  stones  to  hit  the  stars,  he  must  be  a 
practised  orator  who  shall  descend  out  of  the  abstract  to 
take  up  a  heavy  lump  of  the  concrete  without  unseating 
himself,  and  he  stammered  and  came  to  a  flat  ending :  — 
"  In  such  a  country  —  well,  I  venture  to  say,  we  have  a 
right  to  condemn  in  advance  disturbers  of  the  peace,  and 
they  must  show  very  good  cause  indeed  for  not  being 
summarily  held  to  account  for  their  conduct." 

The  allocution  was  not  delivered  in  the  presence  of  an 
audience  other  than  sympathetic,  and  Miss  Halkett  rightly 
guessed  that  it  was  intended  to  strike  Captain  Beauchamp 
by  ricochet.  He  puffed  at  the  mention  of  Beauchamp' s 
name.  He  had  read  a  reported  speech  or  two  of  Beau- 
champ's,  and  shook  his  head  over  a  quotation  of  the  stuff, 
as  though  he  would  have  sprung  at  him  like  a  lion,  but  for 
his  enrolment  as  a  constable. 

Not  a  whit  the  less  did  Mr.  Tuckham  drink  his  claret 
relishingly,  and  he  told  stories  incidental  to  his  travels 
now  and  then,  commended  the  fishing  here,  the  shooting 
there,  and  in  some  few  places  the  cookery,  with  much 
bright  emphasis  when  it  could  be  praised;  it  appeared  to 
be  an  endearing  recollection  to  him.  Still,  as  a  man  of 
progress,  he  declared  his  belief  that  we  English  would 
ulfiriiately  turn  out  the  best  cooks,  having  indubitably  the 
best  material.  "Our  incomprehensible  political  pusilla- 
nimity "  was  the  one  sad  point  about  us :  we  had  been  driven 
from  surrender  to  surrender. 

"  Like  geese  upon  a  common,  I  have  heard  it  said,"  Miss 
Halkett  assisted  him  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's  comparison. 

Mr.  Tuckham  laughed,  and  half  yawned  and  sighed, 
"Dear  me!" 

His  laughter  was  catching,  and  somehow  more  persua- 
sive of  the  soundness  of  the  man's  heart  and  head  than  his 
remarks. 

She  would  have  been  astonished  to  know  that  a  gentle- 
man so  uncourtly,  if  not  uncouth  —  judged  by  the  standard 
of  the  circle  she  moved  in  —  aud  so  unskilled  in  pleasing 


240  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

the  sight  and  hearing  of  ladies  as  to  treat  them  like  junior 
comrades,  had  raised  the  vow  within  himself  on  seeing  her ; 
You,  or  no  woman ! 

The  colonel  delighted  in  him,  both  as  a  strong  and  able 
young  fellow,  and  a  refreshingly  aggressive  recruit  of  his 
party,  who  was  for  onslaught,  and  invoked  common  sense, 
instead  of  waving  the  flag  of  sentiment  in  retreat;  a  very 
horse-artillery  man  of  Tories.  Kegretting  immensely  that 
Mr.  Tuckham  had  not  reached  England  earlier,  that  he 
might  have  occupied  the  seat  for  Bevisham,  about  to  be 
given  to  Captain  Baskelett,  Colonel  Halkett  set  up  a 
contrast  of  Blackburn  Tuckham  and  Nevil  Beauchamp;  a 
singular  instance  of  unfairness,  his  daughter  thought,  con- 
sidering that  the  distinct  contrast  presented  by  the  cir- 
cumstances was  that  of  Mr.  Tuckham  and  Captain 
Baskelett. 

"It  seems  to  me,  papa,  that  you  are  contrasting  the 
idealist  and  the  realist,"  she  said. 

"Ah,  well,  we  don't  want  the  idealist  in  politics,"  mut- 
tered the  colonel. 

Latterly  he  also  had  taken  to  shaking  his  head  over 
Nevil:  Cecilia  dared  not  ask  him  why. 

Mr.  Tuckham  arrived  at  Mount  Laurels  on  the  eve 
of  the  Nomination  day  in  Bevisham.  An  article  in  the 
Bevisham  Gazette  calling  upon  all  true  Liberals  to  demon- 
strate their  unanimity  by  a  multitudinous  show  of  hands, 
he  ascribed  to  the  writing  of  a  child  of  Erin ;  and  he  was 
highly  diverted  by  the  Liberal's  hiring  of  Paddy  to  "  pen 
and  spout "  for  him.  "  A  Scotchman  manages,  and  Paddy 
does  the  sermon  for  all  their  journals,"  he  said  off-hand; 
adding,  "And  the  English  are  the  compositors,  I  suppose." 
You  may  take  that  for  an  instance  of  the  national  spirit  of 
Liberal  newspapers  I 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  colonel,  as  at  a  case  clearly  demon- 
strated against  them. 

A  drive  down  to  Bevisham  to  witness  the  ceremony  of 
the  nomination  in  the  town  hall  sobered  Mr.  Tuckham 's 
disposition  to  generalize.  Beauchamp  had  the  show  of 
hands,  and  to  say  with  Captain  Baskelett  that  they  were 
a  dirty  majority,  was  beneath  Mr.  Tuckham 's  verbal 
antagonism,      He  fell    into  a  studious    reserve,   noting 


MR.   BLACKBURN  TUCKHAM  241 

everything,  listening  to  everybody,  greatly  to  Colonel 
Halkett's  admiration  of  one  by  nature  a  talker  and  a 
thunderer. 

The  show  of  hands  Mr.  Seymour  Austin  declared  to  be 
the  most  delusive  of  electoral  auspices ;  and  it  proved  so. 
A  little  later  than  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
election-day,  Cecilia  received  a  message  from  her  father 
telling  her  that  both  of  the  Liberals  were  headed,  "  Beau- 
champ  nowhere." 

Mrs.  Grancey  Lespel  was  the  next  herald  of  Beau- 
champ's  defeat.  She  merely  stated  the  fact  that  she  had 
met  the  colonel  and  Mr.  Blackburn  Tuckham  driving  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  had  promised  to  bring 
Cecilia  the  final  numbers  of  the  poll.  Without  naming 
them,  she  unrolled  the  greater  business  in  her  mind. 

"A  man  who  in  the  middle  of  an  Election  goes  over  to 
France  to  fight  a  duel,  can  hardly  expect  to  win;  he  has 
all  the  morality  of  an  English  borough  opposed  to  him," 
she  said ;  and  seeing  the  young  lady  stiffen :  "  Oh !  the  duel 
is  positive,"  she  dropped  her  voice.  "With  the  husband. 
Who  else  could  it  be  ?  And  returns  invalided.  That  is 
evidence.  My  nephew  Palmet  has  it  from  Vivian  Ducie, 
and  he  is  acquainted  with  her  tolerably  intimately,  and 
the  story  is,  she  was  overtaken  in  her  flight  in  the  night, 
and  the  duel  followed  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning;  but 
her  brother  insisted  on  fighting  for  Captain  Beauchamp, 
and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  —  but  his  place  in  it  I  can't 
explain  —  there  was  a  beau  jeune  homme,  and  it 's  quite 
possible  that  he  should  have  been  the  person  to  stand  up 
against  the  marquis.  At  any  rate,  he  insulted  Captain 
Beauchamp,  or  thought  your  hero  had  insulted  him,  and 
the  duel  was  with  one  or  the  other.  It  matters  exceed- 
ingly little  with  whom,  if  a  duel  was  fought,  and  you  see 
we  have  quite  established  that." 

"I  hope  it  is  not  true,"  said  Cecilia. 

"My  dear,  that  is  the  Christian  thing  to  do,"  said  Mrs. 
Lespel.  "Duelling  is  horrible:  though  those  Romfreys! 
—  and  the  Beauchamps  were  just  as  bad,  or  nearly. 
Colonel  Richard  fought  for  a  friend's  wife  or  sister. 
But  in  these  days  duelling  is  incredible.  It  was  an  inhu- 
man practice  always,  and  it  is  now  worse  —  it  is  a  breach 

W 


242  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

of  manners.  I  would  hope  it  is  not  true;  and  you  may 
mean  that  I  have  it  from  Lord  Palmet.  But  I  know 
Vivian  Ducie  as  well  as  I  know  my  nephew,  and  if  he 
distinctly  mentions  an  occurrence,  we  may  too  surely  rely 
on  the  truth  of  it;  he  is  not  a  man  to  spread  mischief. 
Are  you  unaware  that  he  met  Captain  Beauchamp  at  the 
chateau  of  the  marquise  ?  The  whole  story  was  acted 
under  his  eyes.  He  had  only  to  take  up  his  pen.  Gener- 
ally he  favours  me  with  his  French  gossip.  I  suppose 
there  were  circumstances  in  this  affair  more  suitable  to 
Palmet  than  to  me.  He  wrote  a  description  of  Madame 
de  Kouaillout  that  set  Palmet  strutting  about  for  an  hour. 
I  have  no  doubt  she  must  be  a  very  beautiful  woman,  for  a 
Frenchwoman :  not  regular  features;  expressive,  capricious. 
Vivian  Ducie  lays  great  stress  on  her  eyes  and  eyebrows, 
and,  I  think,  her  hair.  With  a  Frenchwoman's  figure, 
that  is  enough  to  make  men  crazy.  He  says  her  husband 
deserves  —  but  what  will  not  young  men  write  ?  It  is 
deeply  to  be  regretted  that  Englishmen  abroad  —  women 
the  same,  I  fear  —  get  the  Continental  tone  in  morals. 
But  how  Captain  Beauchamp  could  expect  to  carry  on  an 
Election  and  an  intrigue  together,  only  a  head  like  his  can 
tell  us.  Grancey  is  in  high  indignation  with  him.  It  does 
not  concern  the  Election,  you  can  imagine.  Something 
that  man  Dr.  Shrapnel  has  done,  which  he  says  Captain 
Beauchamp  could  have  prevented.  Quarrels  of  men!  I 
have  instructed  Palmet  to  write  to  Vivian  Ducie  for  a 
photograph  of  Madame  de  Kouaillout.  Do  you  know,  one 
has  a  curiosity  to  see  the  face  of  the  woman  for  whom  a 
man  ruins  himself.  But  I  say  again,  he  ought  to  be 
married." 

"That  there  may  be  two  victims?"  Cecilia  said  it 
smiling. 

She  was  young  in  suffering,  and  thought,  as  the  unsea- 
soned and  inexperienced  do,  that  a  mask  is  a  concealment. 

"Married  —  settled;  to  have  him  bound  in  honour,"  said 
Mrs.  Lespel.  "I  had  a  conversation  with  him  when  he 
was  at  Itchincope;  and  his  look,  and  what  I  know  of  his 
father,  that  gallant  and  handsome  Colonel  Richard  Beau- 
champ, would  give  one  a  kind  of  confidence  in  him;  sup- 
posing always  that  he  is  not  struck  with  one  of  those 


1MB.   BLACKBURN   TUCKHAM  243 

deadly  passions  that  are  like  snakes,  like  magic.  I  posi- 
tively believe  in  them.  I  have  seen  them.  And  if  they 
end,  they  end  as  if  the  man  were  burnt  out,  and  was  ashes 
inside;  as  you  see  Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett,  all  cynicism. 
You  would  not  now  suspect  him  of  a  passion!  It  is  true. 
Oh,  I  know  it!  That  is  what  the  men  go  to.  The  women 
die.  Vera  Winter  died  at  twenty-three.  Caroline  Ormond 
was  hardly  older.  You  know  her  story;  everybody  knows 
it.  The  most  singular  and  convincing  case  was  that  of 
Lord  Alfred  Burnley  and  Lady  Susan  Gardiner,  wife  of 
the  general;  and  there  was  an  instance  of  two  similarly 
afflicted  —  a  very  rare  case,  most  rare:  they  never  could 
meet  to  part!  It  was  almost  ludicrous.  It  is  now  quite 
certain  that  they  did  not  conspire  to  meet.  At  last  the 
absolute  fatality  became  so  well  understood  by  the  persons 
immediately  interested  —  You  laugh  ?  " 

"  Do  I  laugh  ?  "  said  Cecilia. 

"  We  should  all  know  the  world,  my  dear,  and  you  are  a 
strong  head.  The  knowledge  is  only  dangerous  for  fools. 
And  if  romance  is  occasionally  ridiculous,  as  I  own  it  can 
be,  humdrum,  I  protest,  is  everlastingly  so.  By-the-by,  I 
should  have  told  you  that  Captain  Beauchamp  was  one 
hundred  and  ninety  below  Captain  Baskelett  when  tlie 
state  of  the  poll  was  handed  to  me.  The  gentleman  driv- 
ing with  your  father  compared  the  Liberals  to  a  parachute 
cut  away  from  the  balloon.     Is  he  army  or  navy  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  barrister,  and  some  cousin  of  Captain  Beau- 
champ." 

"  I  should  not  have  taken  him  for  a  Beauchamp, "  said 
Mrs.  Lespel;  and,  resuming  her  worldly  sagacity,  "I  should 
not  like  to  be  in  opposition  to  that  young  man." 

She  seemed  to  have  a  fancy  unexpressed  regarding  Mr. 
Tuckham.  Reminding  herself  that  she  might  be  behind 
time  at  Itchincope,  where  the  guests  would  be  numerous 
that  evening,  and'  the  song  of  triumph  loud,  with  Captain 
Baskelett  to  lead  it,  she  kissed  the  young  lady  she  had 
unintentionally  been  torturing  so  long,  and  drove  away. 

Cecilia  hoped  it  was  not  true.  Her  heart  sank  heavily 
under  the  belief  that  it  was.  She  imagined  the  world 
abusing  Xevil  and  casting  him  out,  as  those  electors  of 
Bsvislj^m  had  just  done,  and  impulsively  she  pleaded  for 


244  BEAUCHAIVIP'S   CAREER 

him,  and  became  drowned  in  criminal  blushes  that  forced 
her  to  defend  herself  with  a  determination  not  to  believe 
the  dreadful  story,  though  she  continued  mitigating  the 
wickedness  of  it ;  as  if,  by  a  singular  inversion  of  the  fact, 
her  clear  good  sense  excused,  and  it  was  her  heart  that 
condemned  him.  She  dwelt  fondly  on  an  image  of  the 
"gallant  and  handsome  Colonel  Richard  Beauchamp,"  con- 
jured up  in  her  mind  from  the  fervour  of  Mrs.  Lespel  when 
speaking  of  Nevil's  father,  whose  chivalry  threw  a  light 
on  the  son^s,  and  whose  errors,  condoned  by  time,  and 
with  a  certain  brilliancy  playing  above  them,  interceded 
strangely  on  behalf  of  Nevil. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A   SHORT    SIDELOOK   AT   THE   ELECTION 

The  brisk  Election-day,  unlike  that  wearisome  but  in- 
structive canvass  of  the  Englishman  in  his  castle  vicatim, 
teaches  little;  and  its  humours  are  those  of  a  badly- 
managed  Christmas  pantomime  without  a  columbine  —  old 
tricks,  no  graces.  Nevertheless,  things  hang  together  so 
that  it  cannot  be  passed  over  with  a  bare  statement  of  the 
fact  of  the  Liberal-Radical  defeat  in  Bevisham:  the  day 
was  not  without  fruit  in  time  to  come  for  him  whom  his 
commiserating  admirers  of  the  non-voting  sex  all  round 
the  borough  called  the  poor  dear  commander.  Beau- 
champ's  holiday  out  of  England  had  incited  Dr.  Shrapnel 
to  break  a  positive  restriction  put  upon  him  by  Jenny 
Denham,  and  actively  pursue  the  canvass  and  the  harangue 
in  person ;  by  which  conduct,  as  Jenny  had  foreseen,  many 
temperate  electors  were  alienated  from  Commander  Beau- 
champ,  though  no  doubt  the  Radicals  were  made  compact  : 
for  they  may  be  the  skirmishing  faction  —  poor  scattered 
fragments,  none  of  them  sufficiently  downright  for  the 
other ;  each  outstripping  each  j  rudimentary  emperors, 
elementary  prophets,  inspired  physicians,  nostrum-devour- 
ing patients,  whatsoever  you  will ;  and  still  here  and  there 


A  SHORT  SIDELOOK  AT  THE  ELECTION  245 

a  man  shall  arise  to  march  them  in  close  columns,  if  they 
can  but  trust  him ;  in  perfect  subordination,  a  model  even 
for  Tories  while  they  keep  shoulder  to  shoulder.  And  to 
behold  such  a  disciplined  body  is  intoxicating  to  the  eye 
of  a  leader  accustomed  to  count  ahead  upon  vapourish 
abstractions,  and  therefore  predisposed  to  add  a  couple  of 
noughts  to  every  tangible  figure  in  his  grasp.  Thus  will  a 
realized  fifty  become  five  hundred  or  five  thousand  to  him : 
the  very  sense  of  number  is  instinct  with  multiplication  in 
his  mind ;  and  those  years  far  on  in  advance,  which  he  has 
been  looking  to  with  some  fatigue  to  the  optics,  will  sud- 
denly and  rollickingly  roll  up  to  him  at  the  shutting  of  his 
eyes  in  a  temporary  fit  of  gratification.  So,  by  looking 
and  by  not  looking,  he  achieves  his  phantom  victory  — 
embraces  his  cloud. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  conceived  that  the  day  was  to  be  a  Radi- 
cal success;  and  he,  a  citizen  aged  and  exercised  in  re- 
verses, so  rounded  by  the  habit  of  them  indeed  as  to 
tumble  and  recover  himself  on  the  wind  of  the  blow  that 
struck  him,  was,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  staggered  and 
cast  down  when  he  saw  Beauchamp  drop,  knowing  full 
well  his  regiment  had  polled  to  a  man.  Radicals  poll 
early;  they  would  poll  at  cockcrow  if  they  might;  they 
dance  on  the  morning.  As  for  their  chagrin  at  noon, 
you  will  find  descriptions  of  it  in  the  poet's  Inferno. 
They  are  for  lifting  our  clay  soil  on  a  lever  of  Archimedes , 
and  are  not  great  mathematicians.  They  have  perchance 
a  foot  of  our  earth,  and  perpetually  do  they  seem  to  be 
producing  an  effect,  perpetually  does  the  whole  land  roll 
back  on  them.  You  have  not  surely  to  be  reminded  that  it 
hurts  them;  the  weight  is  immense.  Dr.  Shrapnel,  how- 
ever, speedily  looked  out  again  on  his  vast  horizon,  though 
prostrate.  He  regained  his  height  of  stature  with  no  man's 
help.  Success  was  but  postponed  for  a  generation  or  two. 
Is  it  so  very  distant?  Gaze  on  it  with  the  eye  of  our 
parent  orb  !  "I  shall  not  see  it  here;  you  may,"  he  said  to 
Jenny  Denham;  and  he  fortified  his  outlook  by  saying  to 
Mr.  Lydiard  that  the  Tories  of  our  time  walked,  or  rather 
stuck,  in  the  track  of  the  Radicals  of  a  generation  back. 
Note,  then,  that  Radicals,  always  marching  to  the  triumph, 
never  taste  it ;  and  for  Tories  it  is  Dead  Sea  fruit,  ashes 


246  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

in  their  mouths  !  Those  Liberals,  those  temporisers, 
compromisers,  a  concourse  of  atoms !  glorify  themselves  in 
the  animal  satisfaction  of  sucking  the  juice  of  the  fruit, 
for  which  they  pay  with  their  souls.  They  have  no  true 
cohesion,  for  they  have  no  vital  principle. 

Mr.  Lydiard  being  a  Liberal,  bade  the  doctor  not  to 
forget  the  work  of  the  Liberals,  who  touched  on  Tory  and 
Eadical  with  a  pretty  steady  swing,  from  side  to  side,  in 
the  manner  of  the  pendulum  of  a  clock,  which'  is  the 
clock's  life,  remember  that.  The  Liberals  are  the  pro- 
fessors of  the  practicable  in  politics. 

"  A  suitable  image  for  time-servers ! "  Dr.  Shrapnel  ex- 
claimed, intolerant  of  any  mention  of  the  Liberals  as  a 
party,  especially  in  the  hour  of  Kadical  discomfiture, 
when  the  fact  that  compromisers  should  exist  exasperates 
men  of  a  principle.  "Your  Liberals  are  the  band  of 
Pyrrhus,  an  army  of  bastards,  mercenaries'  professing  the 
practicable  for  pay.  They  know  us  the  motive  force,  the 
Tories  the  resisting  power,  and  they  feign  to  aid  us  in 
battering  our  enemy,  that  they  may  stop  the  shock.  We 
fight,  they  profit.  What  are  they  ?  Stranded  Whigs , 
crotchety  manufacturers;  dissentient  religionists;  the  half- 
minded,  the  hare-hearted;  the  I  would  and  I  would  not 
-—  shifty  creatures,  with  youth's  enthusiasm  decaying  in 
them,  and  a  purse  beginning  to  jingle;  fearing  lest  we  do 
top  much  for  safety,  our  enemy  not  enough  for  safety. 
They  a  party  ?  Let  them  take  action  and  see !  We  stand  a 
thousand  defeats;  they  not  one!  Compromise  begat  them. 
Once  let  them  leave  sucking  the  teats  of  compromise,  yea, 
once  put  on  the  air  of  men  who  fight  and  die  for  a  cause, 
they  fly  to  pieces.  And  whither  the  fragments  ?  Chiefl}^, 
my  friend,  into  the  Tory  ranks.  Seriously  so  I  say. 
You  between  future  and  past  are  for  the  present  —  but 
with  the  hunted  look  behind  of  all  godless  livers  in  the 
present.  You  Liberals  are  Tories  with  foresight.  Radicals 
without  faith.  You  start,  in  fear  of  Toryism,  on  an 
errand  of  Radicalism,  and  in  fear  of  Radicalism  to  Tory- 
ism you  draw  back.     There  is  your  pendulum-swing!  " 

Lectures  to  this  effect  were  delivered  by  Dr.  Shrapnel 
throughout  the  day,  for  his  private  spiritual  solace  it  may 
be  supposed,  unto  Lydiard,  Turbot,  Beauchamp,  or  whom- 


'  A   SHORT   SIDELOOK  AT   THE  ELECTION  247 

soever  the  man  chancing  to  be  near  him,  and  never  did 
Sip  Oracle  wear  so  extraordinary  a  garb.  The  favourite 
missiles  of  the  day  were  flour-bags.  Dr.  Shrapnel's  un- 
common height,  and  his  outrageous  long  brown  coat,  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  attract  them,  without  the  reputa- 
tion he  had  for  desiring  to  subvert  everything  old  English. 
"The  first  discharges  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  thawing 
snowman.  Drenchings  of  water  turned  the  flour  to  ribs  of 
paste,  and  in  'colour  at  least  he  looked  legitimately  the 
cook's  own  spitted  hare,  escaped  from  her  basting  ladle, 
elongated  on  two  legs.  It  ensued  that  whenever  he  was 
caught  sight  of,  as  he  walked  unconcernedly  about,  the 
young  street-professors  of  the  decorative  arts  were  seized 
with  a  frenzy  to  add  their  share  to  the  whitening  of  him, 
until  he  might  have  been  taken  for  a  miller  that  had  gone 
bodily  through  his  meal.  The  popular  cry  proclaimed  him 
a  ghost,  and  he  walked  like  one,  impassive,  blanched,  and 
silent  amid  the  uproar  of  mobs  of  jolly  ruffians,  for  each  of 
whom  it  was  a  point  of  honour  to  have  a  shy  at  old  Shrap- 
nel. Clad  in  this  preparation  of  pie-crust,  he  called  from 
time  to  time  at  Beauchamp's  hotel,  and  renewed  his  mon- 
ologue upon  that  Radical  empire  in  the  future  which  was 
for  ever  in  the  future  for  the  pioneers  of  men,  yet  not  the 
less  their  empire.  "  Do  we  live  in  our  bodies  ?  "  quoth 
he,  replying  to  his  fiery  interrogation:  "Ay,  the  Tories! 
the  Liberals ! " 

They  lived  in  their  bodies.  Not  one  syllable  of  per- 
sonal consolation  did  he  vouchsafe  to  Beauchamp.  He  did 
not  imagine  it  could  be  required  by  a  man  who  had  bathed 
in  the  pure  springs  of  Radicalism;  and  it  should  be  re- 
marked that  Beauchamp  deceived  him  by  imitating  his  air 
of  happy  abstraction,  or  subordination  of  the  faculties  to 
a  distant  view,  comparable  to  a  ship's  crew  in  difficulties 
receiving  the  report  of  the  man  at  the  masthead.  Beau- 
champ deceived  Miss  Denham  too,  and  himself,  by  saying, 
as  if  he  cherished  the  philosophy  of  defeat,  besides  the 
resolution  to  fight  on,  — 

"  It 's  only  a  skirmish  lost,  and  that  counts  for  nothing  in 
a  battle  without  end:  it  must  be  incessant." 

"  But  does  incessant  battling  keep  the  intellect  clear  ?  " 
was  her  memorable  answer. 


248  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

He  glanced  at  Lydiard,  to  indicate  that  it  came  of  that 
gentleman's  influence  upon  her  mind.  It  was  impossible 
for  him  to  think  that  women  thought.  The  idea  of  a  pretty 
woman  exercising  her  mind  independently,  and  moreover 
moving  him  to  examine  his  own,  made  him  smile.  Could 
a  sweet-faced  girl,  the  nearest  to  Renee  in  grace  of  manner 
and  in  feature  of  all  women  known  to  him,  originate  a 
sentence  that  would  set  him  reflecting  ?  He  was  unable  to 
forget  it,  though  he  allowed  her  no  credit  for  it. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  admiration  of  her  devotedness  to 
Dr.  Shrapnel  was  unbounded.  There  shone  a  strictly  fem- 
inine quality!  according  to  the  romantic  visions  of  the  sex 
entertained  by  Commander  Beauchamp,  and  by  others  who 
would  be  the  objects  of  it.  But  not  alone  the  passive  vir- 
tues were  exhibited  by  Jenny  Denham:  she  proved  that 
she  had  high  courage.  No  remonstrance  could  restrain  Dr. 
Shrapnel  from  going  out  to  watch  the  struggle,  and  she 
went  with  him  as  a  matter  of  course  on  each  occasion. 
Her  dress  bore  witness  to  her  running  the  gauntlet  beside 
him. 

"It  was  not  thrown  at  me  purposely,"  she  said,  to  quiet 
Beauchamp's  wrath.  She  saved  the  doctor  from  being 
roughly  mobbed.  Once  when  they  were  surrounded  she 
fastened  his  arm  under  hers,  and  by  simply  moving  on 
with  an  unswerving  air  of  serenity  obtained  a  passage  for 
him.  So  much  did  she  make  herself  respected,  that  the 
gallant  rascals  became  emulous  in  dexterity  to  avoid  pow- 
dering her,  by  loudly  execrating  any  but  dead  shots  at  the 
detested  one,  and  certain  boys  were  maltreated  for  an 
ardour  involving  clumsiness.  A  young  genius  of  this 
horde  conceiving,  in  the  spirit  of  the  inventors  of  our 
improved  modern  ordnance,  that  it  was  vain  to  cast  mis- 
siles which  left  a  thing  standing,  hurled  a  stone  wrapped 
in  paper.  It  missed  its  mark.  Jenny  said  nothing  about 
it.  The  day  closed  with  a  comfortable  fight  or  two  in  by- 
quarters  of  the  town,  probably  to  prove  that  an  undaunted 
English  spirit,  spite  of  fickle  Fortune,  survived  in  our 
muscles. 


249 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

TOUCHING   A   YOUNG    LADY'S    HEART    AND    HER   INTELLECT 

Mr.  Tuckham  found  his  way  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's  cottage 
to  see  his  kinsman  on  the  day  after  the  Election.  There 
was  a  dinner  in  honour  of  the  Members  for  Bevisham  at 
Mount  Laurels  in  the  evening,  and  he  was  five  minutes 
behind  military  time  when  he  entered  the  restive  drawing- 
room  and  stood  before  the  colonel.  No  sooner  had  he 
stated  that  he  had  been  under  the  roof  of  Dr.  Shrapnel, 
than  his  unpunctuality  was  immediately  overlooked  in  the 
burst  of  impatience  evoked  by  the  name. 

*'That  pestilent  fellow!"  Colonel  Halkett  ejaculated. 
"  I  understand  he  has  had  the  impudence  to  serve  a  notice 
on  Grancey  Lespel  about  encroachments  on  common  land." 

Some  one  described  Dr.  Shrapnel's  appearance  under 
the  flour  storm. 

"He  deserves  anything,"  said  the  colonel,  consulting 
his  mantelpiece  clock. 

Captain  Baskelett  observed :  "  I  shall  have  my  account  to 
settle  with  Dr.  Shrapnel."  He  spoke  like  a  man  having  a 
right  to  be  indignant,  but  excepting  that  the  doctor  had 
bestowed  nicknames  upon  him  in  a  speech  at  a  meeting,  no 
one  could  discover  the  grounds  for  it.  He  nodded  briefly. 
A  Radical  apple  had  struck  him  on  the  left  cheek-bone  as 
he  performed  his  triumphal  drive  through  tlie  town,  and  a 
slight  disfigurement  remained,  to  which  his  hand  was 
applied  sympathetically  at  intervals,  for  the  cheek-bone 
was  prominent  in  his  countenance,  and  did  not  well  bear 
enlargement.  And  when  a  fortunate  gentleman,  desiring 
to  be  still  more  fortunate,  would  display  the  winning  ami- 
ability of  his  character,  distension  of  one  cheek  gives  him 
an  afflictingly  false  look  of  sweetness. 

The  bent  of  his  mind,  nevertheless,  was  to  please  Miss 
Halkett.  He  would  be  smiling,  and  intimately  smiling. 
Aware  that  she  had  a  kind  of  pitiful  sentiment  for  Nevil, 
he  smiled  over  Nevil  —  poor  Nevil !  "  I  give  you  my  word, 
Miss  Halkett,  old  Nevil  was  off  his  head  yesterday.     I 


250  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

dare  say  he  meant  to  be  civil.  I  met  him;  I  called  out 
to  him,  '  Good  day,  cousin,  I  'm  afraid  you  're  beaten: '  and 
says  he,  'I  fancy  you've  gained  it,  uncle. ^  He  didn't 
know  where  he  was;  all  abroad,  poor  boy.  Uncle!  —  to 
me!" 

Miss  Halkett  would  have  accepted  the  instance  for  a 
proof  of  Nevil's  distraction,  had  not  Mr.  Seymour  Austin, 
who  sat  beside  her,  laughed  and  said  to  her:  "I  suppose 
'  uncle  '  was  a  chance  shot,  but  it 's  equal  to  a  poetic  epithet 
in  the  light  it  casts  on  the  story."  Then  it  seemed  to  her 
that  Nevil  had  been  keenly  quick,  and  Captain  Baskelett's 
impenetrability  was  a  sign  of  his  density.  Her  mood  was 
to  think  Nevil  Beauchamp  only  too  quick,  too  adventurous 
and  restless:  one  that  wrecked  brilliant  gifts  in  a  too 
general  warfare;  a  lover  of  hazards,  a  hater  of  laws.  Her 
eyes  flew  over  Captain  Baskelett  as  she  imagined  Nevil 
addressing  him  as  uncle,  and,  to  put  aside  a  spirit  of 
mockery  rising  within  her,  she  hinted  a  wish  to  hear  Sey- 
mour Austin's  opinion  of  Mr.  Tuckham.  He  condensed  it 
in  an  interrogative  tone :  "  The  other  extreme  ?  "  The  Tory 
extreme  of  Radical  Nevil  Beauchamp.  She  assented. 
Mr.  Tuckham  was  at  that  moment  prophesying  the  Torifi- 
cation  of  mankind ;  not  as  the  trembling  venturesome  idea 
which  we  cast  on  doubtful  winds,  but  as  a  ship  is  launched 
to  ride  the  waters,  with  huzzas  for  a  thing  accomplished. 
Mr.  Austin  raised  his  shoulders  imperceptibly,  saying  to 
Miss  Halkett :  "  The  turn  will  come  to  us  as  to  others  — 
and  go.  Nothing  earthly  can  escape  that  revolution.  We 
have  to  meet  it  with  a  policy,  and  let  it  pass  with  measures 
carried  and  our  hands  washed  of  some  of  our  party  sins. 
T  am,  I  hope,  true  to  my  party,  but  the  enthusiasm  of 
party  I  do  not  share.  He  is  right,  however,  when  he 
accuses  the  nation  of  cowardice  for  the  last  ten  years. 
One  third  of  the  Liberals  have  been  with  us  at  heart,  and 
dared  not  speak,  and  we  dared  not  say  what  we  wished. 
We  accepted  a  compact  that  satisfied  us  both  —  satisfied  us 
better  than  when  we  were  opposed  by  Whigs  —  that  is,  the 
Liberal  reigned,  and  we  governed:  and  I  should  add,  a 
very  clever  juggler  was  our  common  chief.  Now  we  have 
the  consequences  of  hollow  peacemaking,  in  a  suffrage  that 
bids  fair  to  extend  to  the  wearing  of  hats  and  boots  for  a 


A  YOTJNG  lady's   HEART  AND   INTELLECT        251 

qualification.  The  moral  of  it  seems  to  be  that  cowardice 
is  even  worse  for  nations  than  for  individual  men,  though 
the  consequences  come  on  us  more  slowly." 

"You  spoke  of  party  sins,"  Miss  Halkett  said  incredu- 
lously. 

"I  shall  think  we  are  the  redoubtable  party  when  we 
admit  the  charge." 

"  Are  you  alluding  to  the  landowners  ?  " 

"Like  the  land  itself,  they  have  rich  veins  in  heavy 
matter.  For  instance,  the  increasing  wealth  of  the  coun- 
try is  largely  recruiting  our  ranks ;  and  we  shall  be  tempted 
to  mistake  numbers  for  strength,  and  perhaps  again-  be 
reading  Conservatism  for  a  special  thing  of  our  own  —  a 
fortification.  That  would  be  a  party  sin.  Conservatism 
is  a  principle  of  government;  the  best  because  the  safest 
for  an  old  country ;  and  the  guarantee  that  we  do  not  lose 
the  wisdom  of  past  experience  in  our  struggle  with  what  is 
doubtful.  Liberalism  stakes  too  much  on  the  chance  of 
gain.  It  is  uncomfortably  seated  on  half-a-dozen  horses; 
and  it  has  to  feed  them  too,  and  on  varieties  of  corn." 

"Yes,"  Miss  Halkett  said,  pausing,  "and  I  know  you 
would  not  talk  down  to  me,  but  the  use  of  imagery  makes 
me  feel  that  I  am  addressed  as  a  primitive  intelligence." 

"That's  the  fault  of  my  trying  at  condensation,  as  the 
hieroglyphists  put  an  animal  for  a  paragraph.  I  am  incor- 
rigible, you  see ;  but  the  lecture  in  prose  must  be  for  by- 
and-by,  if  you  care  to  have  it." 

"  If  you  care  to  read  it  to  me.  Did  a  single  hieroglyphic 
figure  stand  for  so  much  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  deciphered  one." 

"  You  have  been  speaking  to  me  too  long  in  earnest,  Mr. 
Austin ! " 

"  I  accept  the  admonition,  though  it  is  wider  than  the 
truth.  Have  you  ever  consented  to  listen  to  politics  be- 
fore ?  " 

Cecilia  reddened  faintly,  thinking  of  him  who  had  taught 
her  to  listen,  and  of  her  previous  contempt  of  the  subject. 

A  political  exposition  devoid  of  imagery  was  given  to  her 
next  day  on  the  sunny  South-western  terrace  of  Mount 
Laurels,  when  it  was  only  by  mentally  translating  it  into 
imagery  that  she  could  advance  a  step  beside  her  intellec- 


252  BEAUCHAJ^IP'S   CAREER 

tual  guide ;  and  slie  was  ashamed  of  the  volatility  of  her 
ideas.  She  was  constantly  comparing  Mr.  Austin  and  Nevil 
Beauchamp,  seeing  that  the  senior  and  the  junior  both 
talked  to  her  with  the  familiar  recognition  of  her  under- 
standing which  was  a  compliment  without  the  gross  cor- 
poreal phrase.  But  now  she  made  another  discovery,  that 
should  have  been  infinitely  more  of  a  compliment,  and  it 
was  bewildering,  if  not  repulsive  to  her :  —  could  it  be 
credited  ?  Mr.  Austin  was  a  firm  believer  in  new  and 
higher  destinies  for  women.  He  went  farther  than  she 
could  concede  the  right  of  human  speculation  to  go ;  he 
was,  in  fact,  as  Radical  there  as  Nevil  Beauchamp  politi- 
cally ;  and  would  not  the  latter  innovator  stare,  perchance 
frown  conservatively,  at  a  prospect  of  woman  taking  council, 
in  council,  with  men  upon  public  affairs,  like  the  women 
in  the  Germania !  Mr.  Austin,  if  this  time  he  talked  in 
earnest,  deemed  that  Englishwomen  were  on  the  road  to 
win  such  a  promotion,  and  would  win  it  ultimately.  He 
said  soberly  that  he  saw  more  certain  indications  of  the 
reality  of  progress  among  women  than  any  at  present  shown 
by  men.  And  he  was  professedly  temperate.  He  was  but 
for  opening  avenues  to  the  means  of  livelihood  for  them, 
and  leaving  it  to  their  strength  to  conquer  the  position 
they  might  wish  to  win.  His  belief  that  they  would  do  so 
was  the  revolutionary  sign. 

"Are  there  points  of  likeness  between  Radicals  and 
Tories  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  I  suspect  a  cousinship  in  extremes,"  he  answered. 

"  If  one  might  be  present  at  an  argument !  "  said  she. 

"We  have  only  to  meet  to  fly  apart  as  wide  as  the 
Poles,"  Mr.  Austin  rejoined. 

But  she  had  not  spoken  of  a  particular  person  to  meet 
him ;  and  how,  then,  had  she  betrayed  herself  ?  She 
fancied  he  looked  unwontedly  arch  as  he  resumed, — 

"  The  end  of  the  argument  would  see  us  each  entrenched 
in  his  party.  Suppose  me  to  be  telling  your  Radical  friend 
such  truisms  as  that  we  English  have  not  grown  in  a  day, 
and  were  not  originally  made  free  and  equal  by  decree  ; 
that  we  have  grown,  and  must  continue  to  grow,  by  the  aid 
and  the  development  of  our  strength ;  that  ours  is  a  fairly 
legible  history,  and  a  fair  example  of  the  good  and  the  bad 


A  YOUNG  lady's   HEART  AND  INTELLECT        253 

iu  human  growth  ;  that  his  landowner  and  his  peasant  have 
no  clear  case  of  right  and  wrong  to  divide  them,  one  being 
the  descendant  of  strong  men,  the  other  of  weak  ones ;  and 
that  the  former  may  sink,  the  latter  may  rise  —  there  is  no 
artificial  obstruction  ;  and  if  it  is  difficult  to  rise,  it  is  easy 
to  sink.  Your  Radical  friend,  who  would  bring  them  to  a 
level  by  proclamation,  could  not  adopt  a  surer  method  for 
destroying  the  manhood  of  a  people :  he  is  for  doctoring 
wooden  men,  and  I  for  not  letting  our  stout  English  be  cut 
down  short  as  Laplanders  ;  he  would  have  them  in  a  forcing 
house,  and  I  in  open  air,  as  hitherto.  Do  you  perceive  a 
discussion  ?  and  you  apprehend  the  nature  of  it.  We  have 
nerves.  That  is  why  it  is  better  for  men  of  extremely 
opposite  opinions  not  to  meet.  I  dare  say  Radicalism  has 
a  function,  and  so  long  as  it  respects  the  laws  I  am  ready 
to  encounter  it  where  it  cannot  be  avoided.  Pardon  my 
prosing." 

"  Recommend  me  some  hard  books  to  study  through  the 
^Vinter,"  said  Cecilia,  refreshed  by  a  discourse  that  touched 
no  emotions,  as  by  a  febrifuge.  Could  Nevil  reply  to  it  ? 
She  fancied  him  replying,  with  that  wild  head  of  his  — 
wildest  of  natures.  She  fancied  also  that_her  wish  was 
like  Mr.  Austin's  not  to  meet  him.  She  was  enjoying  a 
little  rest. 

It  was  not  quite  generous  in  Mr.  Austin  to  assume  that 
"her  Radical  friend"  had  been  prompting  her.  However, 
she  thanked  him  in  her  heart  for  the  calm  he  had  given  her. 
To  be  able  to  imagine  Nevil  Beauchamp  intellectually  erratic 
was  a  tonic  satisfaction  to  the  proud  young  lady,  ashamed 
of  a  bondage  that  the  bracing  and  pointing  of  her  critical 
powers  helped  her  to  forget.  She  had  always  preferred  the 
society  of  men  of  Mr.  Austin's  age.  How  old  was  he  ?  Her 
father  would  know.  And  why  was  he  unmarried  ?  A  light 
frost  had  settled  on  the  hair  about  his  temples ;  his  forehead 
was  lightly  wrinkled ;  but  his  mouth -and  smile,  and  his  eyes, 
were  lively  as  a  young  man's,  with  more  in  them.  His  age 
must  be  something  less  than  fifty.  0  for  peace !  she  sighed. 
When  he  stepped  into  his  carriage,  and  stood  up  in  it  to 
wave  adieu  to  her,  she  thought  his  face  and  figure  a  perfect 
example  of  an  English  gentleman  in  his   prime. 

Captain  Baskelett  requested  the  favour  of  five  minutes  of 


254  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAKEER 

conversation  with   Miss  Halkett  before  he  followed  Mr. 
Austin,  on  his  way  to  Steynham. 

She  returned  from  that  colloquy  to  her  father  and  Mr. 
Tuckham.  The  colonel  looked  straight  in  her  face,  with  an 
elevation  of  the  brows.  To  these  points  of  interrogation 
she  answered  wi.th  a  placid  fall  of  her  eyelids.  He  sounded 
a  note  of  approbation  in  his  throat. 

All  the  company  having  departed,  Mr.  Tuckham  for  the 
first  time  spoke  of  his  interview  with  his  kinsman  Beau- 
champ.  Yesterday  evening  he  had  slurred  it,  as  if  he  had 
nothing  to  relate,  except  the  finding  of  an  old  schoolfellow 
at  Dr.  Shrapnel's  named  Lydiard,  a  man  of  ability  fool 
enough  to  have  turned  author  on  no  income.  But  that  which 
had  appeared  to  Miss  Halkett  a  want  of  observancy,  became 
attributable  to  depth  of  character  on  its  being  clear  that  he. 
had  waited  for  the  departure  of  the  transient  guests  of  the 
house,  to  pour  forth  his  impressions  without  holding  up  his 
kinsman  to  public  scorn.  He  considered  Shrapnel  mad  and 
Beauchamp  mad.  No  such  grotesque  old  monster  as  Dr. 
Shrapnel  had  he  s6en  in  the  course  of  his  travels.  He  had 
never  listened  to  a  madman  running  loose  who  was  at  all  up 
to  Beauchamp.  At  a  loss  for  words  to  paint  him,  he  said, 
"Beauchamp  seems  to  have  a  head  like  a  firework  manu- 
factory, he  's  perfectly  pyrocephalic."  For  an  example  of 
Dr.  ShrapnePs  talk:  "I  happened,'^  said  Mr.  Tuckham, 
"casually,  meaning  no  harm,  and  not  supposing  I  was 
throwing  a  lighted  match  on  powder,  to  mention  the  word 
Providence.  I  found  myself  immediately  confronted  by 
Shrapnel  —  overtopped,  I  should  say.  He  is  a  lank  giant 
of  about  seven  feet  in  height ;  the  kind  of  show  man  that 
used  to  go  about  in  caravans  over  the  country  ;  and  he  began 
rocking  over  me  like  a  poplar  in  a  gale,  and  cries  out :  ^  Stay 
there  !  away  with  that !  Providence  ?  Can  you  set  a  thought 
on  Providence^not  seeking  to  propitiate  it  ?  And  have 
you  not  there  the  damning  proof  that  you  are  at  the  foot  of 
an  Idol  ? '  —  Tfhe  old  idea  about  a  special  Providence,  I 
suppose.  These  fellows  have  nothing  new  but  their  trim- 
mings. And  he  went  on  with  :  ^  Ay,  invisible,'  and  his  arm 
chopping,  '  but  an  Idol !  an  Idol ! '  —  I  was  to  think  of 
'  nought  but  Laws.'  He  admitted  there  might  be  one  above 
the  Laws.    '  To  realize  him  is  to  fry  the  brains  in  their  pan,' 


A  YOUNG  LADY^S   HEART   AND   INTELLECT        255 

gays  he,  and  struck  his  forehead  a  slap :  and  off  he  walked 
down  the  garden,  with  his  hands  at  his  coat-tails.  I  venture 
to  say  it  may  be  taken  for  a  proof  of  incipient  insanity  to 
care  to  hear  such  a  fellow  twice.  And  Beauchamp  holds 
him  up  for  a  sage  and  a  prophet !  " 

"  He  is  a  very  dangerous  dog,"  said  Colonel  Halkett. 

"  The  best  of  it  is  —  and  I  take  this  for  the  strongest 
possible  proof  that  Beauchamp  is  mad  —  Shrapnel  stands 
for  an  advocate  of  morality  against  him.  I  '11  speak  of 
it  ..." 

Mr.  Tuckham  nodded  to  the  colonel,  who  said :  "  Speak 
out.  My  daughter  has  been  educated  for  a  woman  of  the 
world." 

"  Well,  sir,  it 's  nothing  to  offend  a  young  lady's  ears. 
Beauchamp  is  for  socially  enfranchising  the  sex  —  that  is 
all..  Quite  enough.  Not  a  whit  politically.  Love  is  to  be 
the  test :  and  if  a  lady  ceases  to  love  her  husband  .  .  .if 
she  sets  her  fancy  elsewhere,  she  's  bound  to  leave  him. 
I'he  laws  are  tyrannical,  our  objections  are  cowardly.  Well, 
this  Dr.  Shrapnel  harangued  about  society;  and  men  as 
well  as  women  are  to  sacrifice  their  passions  on  that  altar. 
If  he  could  burlesque  himself  it  would  be  in  coming  out  as 
a  cleric  —  the  old  Pagan!" 

"  Did  he  convince  Captain  Beauchamp  ? "  the  colonel 
asked,  manifestly  for  his  daughter  to  hear  the  reply;  which 
was  :  "  Oh  dear,  no !  " 

**  Were  you  able  to  gather  from  Captain  Beauchamp's 
remarks  whether  he  is  much  disappointed  by  the  result  of 
the  election  ?  "  said  Cecilia. 

Mr.  Tuckham  could  tell  her  only  that  Captain  Beauchamp 
was  incensed  against  an  elector  named  Tomlinson  for  with- 
drawing a  promised  vote  on  account  of  lying  rumours,  and 
elated  by  the  conquest  of  a  Mr.  Carpendike,  who  was  reck- 
oned a  tough  one  to  drag  by  the  neck.  "  The  only  sane 
people  in  the  house  are  a  Miss  Denham  and  the  cook  :  I 
lunched  there,"  Mr.  Tuckham  nodded  approvingly.  "  Lydi- 
ard  must  be  mad.  What  he 's  wasting  his  time  there  for 
I  can't  guess.  He  says  he  's  engaged  there  in  'writing  a 
prefatory  essay  to  a  new  publication  of  Harry  Denham 's 
poems  —  whoever  that  may  be.  And  why  writing  it  there  ? 
I  don't  like  it.     He  ought  to  be  earning  his  bread.     He  '11 


256  BE AUCH amp's  career 

be  sure  to  be  borrowing  money  by-and-by.  We  Ve  got  ten 
thousand  too  many  fellows  writing  already,  and  they  \e 
seen  a  few  inches  of  the  world,  on  the  Continent !  He  can 
write.  But  it 's  all  unproductive  —  dead  weight  on  the 
■  country,  these  fellows  with  their  writings  !  He  says  Beau- 
champ's  praise  of  Miss  Denham  is  quite  deserved.  He  tells 
me,  that  at  great  peril  to  herself  —  and  she  nearly  had  her 
arm  broken  by  a  stone  —  she  saved  Shrapnel  from  rough 
usage  on  the  election-day." 

"•  Hum  ! "  Colonel  Halkett  grunted  significantly. 

''  So  I  thought,"  Mr.  Tuckham  responded.  "  One  does  n't 
want  the  man  to  be  hurt,  but  he  ought  to  be  put  down  in 
some  way.  My  belief  is  he 's  a  Fire-worshipper.  I  war- 
rant I  would  extinguish  him  if  he  came  before  me.  He  *s 
an  incendiary,  at  any  rate." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Cecilia,  "  that  Captain  Beauchamp 
is  now  satisfied  with  his  experience  of  politics  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  no,"  said  Mr.  Tuckham.  "It's  the  opening 
of  a  campaign.  He 's  off  to  the  North,  after  he  has  been  to 
Sussex  and  Bucks.  He's  to  be  at  it  all  his  life.  One 
thing  he  shows  common  sense  in.  If  I  heard  him  once  I 
heard  him  say  half-a-dozen  times,  that  he  must  have 
money :  —  ^  I  must  have  money  !  '  And  so  he  must  if  he  's 
to  head  the  Radicals.  He  wants  to  start  a  newspaper !  Is 
he  likely  to  get  money  from  his  uncle  Romfrey  ?  " 

"Not  for  his  present  plan  of  campaign."  Colonel  Hal- 
kett enunciated  the  military  word  sarcastically.  "Let's 
hope  he  won't  get  money." 

"  He  says  he  must  have  it." 

"  Who  is  to  stand  and  deliver,  then  ?  " 

"'  I  don't  know ;  I  only  repeat  what  he  says :  unless  he 
has  an  eye  on  my  aunt  Beauchamp ;  and  I  doubt  his  luck 
there,  if  he  wants  money  for  political  campaigning." 

"  Money  ! "  Colonel  Halkett  ejaculated. 

That  word  too  was  in  the  heart  of  the  heiress. 

Nevil  must  have  money  !  Could  he  have  said  it  ?  Ordi- 
nary men  might  say  or  think  it  inoffensively ;  Captain 
Baskelett,  for  instance  :  but  not  Nevil  Beauchamp. 

Captain  Baskelett,  as  she  had  conveyed  the  information 
to  her  father  for  his  comfort  in  the  dumb  domestic  language 
familiar  between  them  on  these  occasions,  had  proposed  to 


A  YOUNG  lady's.  HEART  AND  INTELLECT       257 

her  unavailingly.  Italian  and  English  gentlemen  were  in 
the  list  of  her  rejected  suitors :  and  hitherto  she  had  seen 
them  come  and  go,  one  might  say,  from  a  watchtower  in  the 
skies.  None  of  them  was  the  ideal  she  waited  for :  what 
their  feelings  were,  their  wishes,  their  aims,  she  had  not 
reflected  on.  They  dotted  the  landscape  beneath  the  un- 
assailable heights,  busy  after  their  fashion,  somewhat 
quaint,  much  like  the  pigmy  husbandmen  in  the  fields  were 
to  the  giant's  daughter,  who  had  more  curiosity  than 
Cecilia.  But  Nevil  Beauchamp  had  compelled  her  to  quit 
her  lofty  station,  pulled  her  low  as  the  littlest  of  women 
that  throb  and  flush  at  one  man's  footstep  :  and  being  well 
able  to  read  the  nature  and  aspirations  of  Captain  Baske- 
lett,  it  was  with  the  knowledge  of  her  having  been  pro- 
posed to  as  heiress  of  a  great  fortune  that  she  chanced  to 
hear  of  Nevil's  resolve  to  have  money.  If  he  did  say  it ! 
And  was  anything  likelier  ?  was  anything  unlikelier  ?  His 
foreign  love  denied  to  him,  why,  now  he  devoted  himself  to 
money  :  money  —  the  last  consideration  of  a  man  so  single- 
mindedly  generous  as  he !  But  he  must  have  money  to 
pursue  his  contest !  But  would  he  forfeit  the  truth  in  him 
for  money  for  any  purpose  ? 

The  debate  on  this  question  grew  as  incessant  as  the 
thought  of  him. 

Was  it  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  madness  of  the  pur- 
suit of  his  political  chimaera  might  change  his  character  ? 

She  hoped  he  would  not  come  to  Mount  Laurels,  think- 
ing she  should  esteem  him  less  if  he  did  ;  knowing  that  her 
defence  of  him,  on  her  own  behalf,  against  herself,  de- 
pended now  on  an  esteem  lodged  perhaps  in  her  wilfulness. 
Yet  if  he  did  not  come,  what  an  Arctic  world  ! 

He  came  on  a  November  afternoon  when  the  woods 
glowed,  and  no  sun.  The  day  was  narrowed  in  mist  from 
earth  to  heaven :  a  moveless  and  possessing  mist.  It  left 
space  overhead  for  one  wreath  of  high  cloud  mixed  with 
touches  of  washed  red  upon  moist  blue,  still  as  the  mist, 
insensibly  passing  into  it.  Wet  webs  crossed  the  grass, 
chill  in  the  feeble  light.  The  last  flowers  of  the  garden 
bowed  to  decay.  Dead  leaves,  red  and  brown  and  spotted 
yellow,  fell  straight  around  the  stems  of  trees,  lying  thick. 
The  glow  was  universal,  and  the  chill. 

17 


258  BEAtrCHAMP's  CAREER 

Cecilia  sat  sketching  the  scene  at  a  window  of  her  study, 
on  the  level  of  the  drawing-room,  and  he  stood  by  outside 
till  she  saw  him.  He  greeted  her  through  the  glass,  then 
went  round  to  the  hall  door,  giving  her  time  to  recover,  if 
only  her  heart  had  been  less  shaken. 

Their  meeting  was  like  the  features  of  the  day  she  set 
her  brush  to  picture  :  characteristic  of  a  season  rather  than 
cheerless  in  tone,  though  it  breathed  little  cheer.  Is  there 
not  a  pleasure  in  contemplating  that  which  is  characteristic  ? 
Her  unfinished  sketch  recalled  him  after  he  had  gone :  he 
lived  in  it,  to  startle  her  again,  and  bid  her  heart  gallop  and 
her  cheeks  burn.  The  question  occurred  to  her :  May  not 
one  love,  not  craving  to  be  beloved  ?  Such  a  love  does  not 
sap  our  pride,  but  supports  it;  increases  rather  than  di- 
minishes our  noble  self-esteem.  To  attain  such  a  love  the 
martyrs  writhed  up  to  the  crown  of  saints.  For  a  while 
Cecilia  revelled  in  the  thought  that  she  could  love  in  this 
most  saintlike  manner.  How  they  fled,  the  sordid  ideas 
of  him  which  accused  him  of  the  world's  one  passion,  and 
were  transferred  to  her  own  bosom  in  reproach  that  she 
should  have  imagined  them  existing  in  his  !  He  talked 
simply  and  sweetly  of  his  defeat,  of  time  wasted  away  from 
the  canvass,  of  loss  of  money :  and  he  had  little  to  spare, 
he  said.  The  water-colour  drawing  interested  him.  He 
said  he  envied  her  that  power  of  isolation,  and  the  eye  for 
beauty  in  every  season.  She  opened  a  portfolio  of  Mr. 
Tuckham's  water-colour  drawings  in  every  clime ;  scenes  of 
Europe,  Asia,  and  the  Americas  ;  and  he  was  to  be  excused 
for  not  caring  to  look  through  them.  His  remark,  that  they 
seemed  hard  and  dogged,  was  not  so  unjust,  she  thought, 
smiling  to  think  of  the  critic  criticized.  His  wonderment 
that.a  young  man  like  his  Lancastrian  cousin  should  be  "  an 
unmitigated  Tory  "  was  perhaps  natural. 

Cecilia  said,  ''  Yet  I  cannot  discern  in  him  a  veneration 
for  aristocracy.'' 

*' That's  not  wanted  for  modern  Toryism,"  said  Nevil. 
*'  One  may  venerate  old  families  when  they  show  the  blood 
of  the  founder,  and  are  not  dead  wood.  I  do.  And  I  be- 
lieve the  blood  of  the  founder,  though  the  man  may  have 
been  a  savage  and  a  robber,  had  in  his  day  finer  elements  in 
it  than  were  common.     But  let  me  say  at  a  meeting  that  I 


A  YOUNG   lady's   HEART   AND  INTELLECT        259 

respect  true  aristocracy,  I  hear  a  growl  and  a  hiss  begin- 
ning :  why  ?  Don't  judge  them  hastily :  because  the  people 
have  seen  the  aristocracy  opposed  to  the  cause  that  was 
weak,  and  only  submitting  to  it  when  it  commanded  them 
to  resist  at  their  peril ;  clinging  to  traditions,  and  not  any- 
where standing  for  humanity :  much  more  a  herd  than  the 
people  themselves.  Ah !  well,  we  won't  talk  of  it  now.  I 
say  that  is  no  aristocracy,  if  it  does  not  head  the  people  in 
virtue  —  military,  political,  national :  I  mean  the  qualities 
required  by  the  times  for  leadership.  I  won't  bother  you 
with  my  ideas  now.     I  love  to  see  you  paint-brush  in  hand." 

Her  brush  trembled  on  the  illumination  of  a  scarlet 
maple.  "  In  this  country  we  were  not  originally  made  free 
and  equal  by  decree,  Nevil." 

♦'  No,"  said  he,  "  and  I  cast  no  blame  on  our  farthest 
ancestors." 

It  struck  her  that  this  might  be  an  outline  of  a  reply  to 
Mr.  Austin. 

"  So  you  have  been  thinking  over  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Not  to  conclusions,"  she  said,  trying  to  retain  in  her 
mind  the  evanescent  suggestiveness  of  his  previous  remark, 
and  vexed  to  find  herself  upon  nothing  but  a  devious  phos- 
phorescent trail  there. 

Her  forehead  betrayed  the  unwonted  mental  action.  He 
cried  out  for  pardon.  "  What  right  have  I  to  bother  you  ? 
I  see  it  annoys  you.  The  truth  is,  I  came  for  peace.  I 
think  of  you  when  they  talk  of  English  homes." 

She  felt  then  that  he  was  comparing  her  home  with 
another,  a  foreign  home.  After  he  had  gone  she  felt  that 
there  had  been  a  comparison  of  two  persons.  She  remem- 
bered one  of  his  observations  :  "  Few  women  seem  to  have 
courage ; "  when  his  look  at  her  was  for  an  instant  one  of 
scrutiny  or  calculation.  Under  a  look  like  that  we  perceive 
that  we  are  being  weighed.  She  had  no  clue  to  tell  her 
what  it  signified. 

Glorious  and  solely  glorious  love,  that  has  risen  above 
emotion,  quite  independent  of  craving  !  That  is  to  be  the 
bird  of  upper  air,  poised  on  his  wings.  It  is  a  home  in  the 
sky.  Cecilia  took  possession  of  it  systematically,  not  ques- 
tioning whether  it  would  last ;  like  one  who  is  too  enam- 
oured of  the  habitation  to  object  to  be  a  tenant-at-will.    If 


260 

it  was  cold,  it  was  in  recompense  immeasurably  loity,  a 
star-girdled  place ;  and  dwelling  in  it  she  could  avow  to 
herself  the  secret  which  was  now  working  self-deception, 
and  still  preserve  her  pride  unwounded.  Her  womanly- 
pride,  she  would  have  said  in  vindication  of  it :  but  Cecilia 
Halkett's  pride  went  far  beyond  the  merely  womanly. 

Thus  she  was  assisted  to  endure  a  journey  down  to  Wales, 
where  Nevil  would  surely  not  be.  She  passed  a  Winter 
without  seeing  him.  She  returned  to  Mount  Laurels  from 
London  at  Easter,  and  went  on  a  visit  to  Steynham,  and 
back  to  London,  having  sight  of  him  nowhere,  still  firm  in 
the  thought  that  she  loved  ethereally,  to  bless,  forgive, 
direct,  encourage,  pray  for  him,  impersonally.  She  read 
certain  speeches  delivered  by  Nevil  at  assemblies  of 
Liberals  or  Radicals,  which  were  reported  in  papers  in  the 
easy  irony  of  the  style  of  here  and  there  a  sentence,  here 
and  there  a  summary :  salient  quotations  interspersed  with 
running  abstracts :  a  style  terrible  to  friends  of  the  speaker 
so  reported,  overwhelming  if  they  differ  in  opinion :  yet  her 
charity  was  a  match  for  it.  She  was  obliged  to  have  re- 
course to  charity,  it  should  be  observed.  Her  father  drew 
her  attention  to  the  spectacle  of  R.  C.  S.  Nevil  Beauchamp, 
Commander  R.  IST.,  fighting  those  reporters  with  letters  in 
the  newspapers,  and  the  dry  editorial  comment  flanked  by 
three  stars  on  the  left.  He  was  shocked  to  see  a  gentle- 
man writing  such  letters  to  the  papers.  "But  one  thing 
hangs  on  another,"  said  he. 

"  But  you  seem  angry  with  Nevil,  papa,"  said  she. 

"I  do  hate  a  turbulent,  restless  fellow,  my  dear,"  the 
colonel  burst  out. 

"  Papa,  he  has  really  been  unfairly  reported." 

Cecilia  laid  three  privately-printed  full  reports  of  Com- 
mander Beauchamp's  speeches  (very  carefully  corrected  by 
him)  before  her  father. 

He  suffered  his  eye  to  run  down  a  page.  "  Is  it  possible 
you  read  this  ?  —  this  trash  !  —  dangerous  folly,  I  call  it." 

Cecilia's  reply,  "  In  the  interests  of  justice,  I  do,"  was 
meant  to  express  her  pure  impartiality.  By  a  toleration  of 
what  is  detested  we  expose  ourselves  to  the  keenness  of  an 
adverse  mind. 

"  Does  he  write  to  you,  too  ?  "  said  the  colonel. 


She  answered  :  "  Oh,  no  ;  I  am  not  a  politician." 

"  He  seems  to  have  expected  you  to  read  those  tracts  of 
his,  though." 

"  Yes,  I  think  he  would  convert  me  if  he  could,"  said 
Cecilia. 

"  Though  you  're  not  a  politician." 

"  He  relies  on  the  views  he  delivers  in  public,  rather  than 
on  writing  to  persuade  ;  that  was  my  meaning,  papa." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  colonel,  not  caring  to  show  his 
anxiety. 

Mr.  Tuckham  dined  with  them  frequently  in  London. 
This  gentleman  betrayed  his  accomplishments  one  by  one. 
He  sketched,  and  was  no  artist;  he  planted,  and  was  no 
gardener ;  he  touched  the  piano  neatly,  and  was  no  musi- 
cian ;  he  sang,  and  he  had  no  voice.  Apparently  he  tried 
his  hand  at  anything,  for  the  privilege  of  speaking  deci- 
sively upon  all  things.  He  accompanied  the  colonel  and 
his  daughter  on  a  day's  expedition  to  Mrs.  Beauchamp,  on 
the  Upper  Thames,  and  they  agreed  that  he  shone  to  great 
advantage  in  her  society.  Mrs.  Beauchamp  said  she  had 
seen  her  great-nephew  Nevil,  but  without  a  comment  on 
his  conduct  or  his  person  ;  grave  silence.  Reflecting  on  it, 
Cecilia  grew  indignant  at  the  thought  that  Mr.  Tuckham 
might  have  been  acting  a  sinister  part.  Mrs.  Beauchamp 
alluded  to  a  newspaper  article  of  her  favourite  great-nephew 
Blackburn,  written,  Cecilia  knew  through  her  father,  to  con- 
trovert some  tremendous  proposition  of  Nevil's.  That  was 
writing,  Mrs.  Beauchamp  said.  "  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of 
fearing  a  conflict,  so  long  as  we  have  stout  defenders.  I 
rather  like  it,"  she  said. 

The  colonel  entertained  Mrs.  Beauchamp,  while  Mr. 
Tuckham  led  Miss  Halkett  over  the  garden.  Cecilia  con- 
sidered that  his  remarks  upon  Nevil  were  insolent. 

"  Seriously,  Miss  Halkett,  to  take  him  at  his  best,  he  is  a 
very  good  fellow,  I  don't  doubt ;  I  am  told  so ;  and  a  capital 
fellow  among  men,  a  good  friend  and  not  a  bad  boonfellow, 
and  for  that  matter,  the  smoking-room  is  a  better  test  than 
the  drawing-room ;  all  he  wants  is  emphatically  school  — 
school  —  school.  I  have  recommended  the  simple  iteration 
of  that  one  word  in  answer  to  him  at  his  meetings,  and  the 
printing  of  it  as  a  foot-note  to  his  letters." 


262  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Cecilia^s  combative  spirit  precipitated  lier  to  say,  "  I  hear 
the  mob  in  it  shouting  Captain  Beauchamp  down." 

"  Ay/'  said  Mr.  Tuckham,  "  it  would  be  setting  the  mob 
to  shout  wisely  at  last." 

"  The  mob  is  a  wild  beast." 

"  Then  we  should  hear  wisdom  coming  out  of  the  mouth 
of  the  wild  beast." 

"  Men  have  the  phrase,  ^  fair  play.' " 

"Fair  play,  I  say,  is  not  applicable  to  a  man  who  de- 
liberately goes  about  to  stir  the  wild  beast.  He  is  laughed 
at,  plucked,  hustled,  and  robbed,  by  those  who  deafen  him 
with  their  ^plaudits'  —  their  roars.  "Pid  you  see  his 
advertisement  of  a  great-coat,  lost  at  some  rapscallion 
gathering  down  in  the  North,  near  my  part  of  the  country  ? 
A  great-codt  and  a  packet  of  letters.  He  offers  a  reward  of 
£10.  But  that's  honest  robbery  compared  with  the  bleed- 
ing he'll  get." 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Seymour  Austin?"  Miss  Halkett 
asked  him. 

"  I  met  him  once  at  your  father's  table.     Why  ?  " 

"  I  think  you  would  like  to  listen  to  him," 

"Yes,  my  fault  is  not  listening  enough,"  said  Mr. 
Tuckham. 

He  was  capable  of  receiving  correction. 

Her  father  told  her  he  was  indebted  to  Mr.  Tuckham 
past  payment  in  coin,  for  services  rendered  by  him  on  a 
trying  occasion  among  the  miners  in  Wales  during  the  first 
spring  month.  "I  dare  say  he  can  speak  effectively  to 
miners,"  Cecilia  said,  outvying  the  contemptuous  young 
man  in  superciliousness,  but  with  effort  and  not  with 
satisfaction. 

She  left  London  in  July,  two  days  before  her  father 
could  be  induced  to  return  to  Mount  Laurels.  Feverish, 
and  strangely  subject  to  caprices  now,  she  chose  the 
longer  way  round  by  Sussex,  and  alighted  at  the  station 
near  Steynham  to  call  on  Mrs.  Culling,  whom  she  knew  to 
be  at  the  Hall,  preparing  it  for  Mr.  Romfrey's  occupation. 
In  imitation  of  her  father  she  was  Rosamund's  fast  friend, 
though  she  had  never  quite  realized  her  position,  and  did 
not  thoroughly  understand  her.  Would  it  not  please  her 
father  to  hear  that  she  had  chosen  the  tedious  route  for  the 


A  YOUNG  lady's   HEART  AKD  INTELLECT       263 

purpose  of  visiting  this  lady,  whose  champion  he  was  ?  So 
she  went  to  Steynham,  and  for  hours  she  heard  talk  of  no 
one,  of  nothing,  but  her  friend  Nevil.  Cecilia  was  on  her 
guard  against  Kosamund's  defence  of  his  conduct  in  France. 
The  declaration  that  there  had  been  no  misbehaviour  at  all 
could  not  be  accepted ;  but  the  news  of  Mr.  Romfrey's 
having  installed  Nevil  in  Holdesbury  to  manage  that  prop- 
erty, and  of  his  having  mooted  to  her  father  the  question  of 
an  alliance  between  her  and  Nevil,  was  wonderful.  Eosa- 
mund  could  not  say  what  answer  her  father  had  made : 
hardly  favourable,  Cecilia  supposed,  since  he  had  not  spoken 
of  the  circumstance  to  her.  But  Mr.  Komfrey's  influence 
with  him  would  certainly  be  powerful. 

It  was  to  be  assumed,  also,  that  Nevil  had  been  consulted 
by  his  uncle.  Rosamund  said  full-heartedly  that  this 
alliance  had  for  years  been  her  life's  desire,  and  then  she 
let  the  matter  pass,  nor  did  she  once  look  at  Cecilia  search - 
ingly,  or  seem  to  wish  to  probe  her.  Cecilia  disagreed  with 
Rosamund  on  an  insignificant  point  in  relation  to  something 
Mr.  Romfrey  and  Captain  Baskelett  had  done,  and,  as  far 
as  she  could  recollect  subsequently,  there  was  a  packet  of 
letters,  or  a  pocket-book  containing  letters  of  Nevil's  which 
he  had  lost,  and  which  had  been  forwarded  to  Mr.  Romfrey ; 
for  the  pocket-book  was  originally  his,  and  his  address  was 
printed  inside.  But  among  these  letters  was  one  from  Dr. 
Shrapnel  to  Nevil:  a  letter  so  horrible  that  Rosamund 
frowned  at  the  reminiscence  of  it,  holding  it  to  be  too 
horrible  for  the  quotation  of  a  sentence.  She  owned  she 
had  forgotten  any  three  consecutive  words.  Her  known 
dislike  of  Captain  Baskelett,  however,  was  insufficient  to 
make  her  see  that  it  was  unjustifiable  in  him  to  run  about 
London  reading  it,  with  comments  of  the  cruellest.  Rosa- 
mund's greater  detestation  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  blinded  her  to 
the  ofPence  committed  by  the  man  she  would  otherwise  have 
been  very  ready  to  scorn.  So  small  did  the  circumstance 
appear  to  Cecilia,  notwithstanding  her  gentle  opposition  at 
the  time  she  listened  to  it,  that  she  never  thought  of  men- 
tioning it  to  her  father,  and  only  remembered  it  when  Cap- 
tain Baskelett,  with  Lord  Palmet  in  his  company,  presented 
himself  at  Mount  Laurels,  and  proposed  to  the  colonel  to 
read  to  him  "  a  letter  from  that  scoundrelly  old  Shrapnel  to 


264  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

iN"evil  Beauchamp,  upon  women,  wives,  thrones,  republics, 
British  loyalty,  et  csetera,"  —  an  et  csetera  that  rolled  a 
series  of  tremendous  reverberations  down  the  list  of  all 
things  held  precious  by  freeborn  Englishmen. 

She  would  have  prevented  the  reading.     But  the  colonel 
would  have  it. 

"  Read  on,"  said  he.     "  Mr.  Romf rey  saw  no  harm." 
Captain  Baskelett  held  up  Dr.  Shrapnel's  letter  to  Com- 
mander Beauchamp,  at  about  half  a  yard's  distance  on  the 
level  of  his  chin,  as  a  big-chested  singer  in  a  concert-room 
holds  his  music-scroll. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  EPISTLE   OP    DR.    SHRAPNEL   TO   COMMANDER 
BEAUCHAMP 

Before  we  give  ear  to  the  recital  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  letter 
to  his  pupil  in  politics  by  the  mouth  of  Captain  Baskelett, 
it  is  necessary  to  defend  this  gentleman,  as  he  would  hand- 
somely have  defended  himself,  from  the  charge  that  he 
entertained  ultimate  designs  in  regard  to  the  really  abomi- 
nable scrawl,  which  was  like  a  child's  drawing  of  ocean  with 
here  and  there  a  sail  capsized,  and  excited  his  disgust 
almost  as  much  as  did  the  contents  his  great  indignation. 
He  was  prepared  to  read  it,  and  stood  blown  out  for  the 
task,  but  it  was  temporarily  too  much  for  him.  "My  dear 
colonel,  look  at  it,  I  entreat  you,"  he  said,  handing  the 
letter  for  exhibition,  after  fixing  his  eye-glass,  and  dropping 
it  in  repulsion.  The  common  sentiment  of  mankind  is 
offended  by  heterodoxy  in  mean  attire  ;  and  there  we  see 
the  self -convicted  villain  —  the  criminal  caught  in  the  act ; 
we  try  it  and  convict  it  by  instinct  without  the  ceremony 
of  a  jury;  and  so  thoroughly  aware  of  our  promptitude  in 
this  respect  has  our  arch-enemy  become  since  his  mediaeval 
disgraces  that  his  particular  advice  to  his  followers  is  now 
to  scrupulously  copy  the  world  in  externals  ;  never  to  ap- 
pear poorly  clothed,  nor  to  impart  deceptive  communications 


THE  EPISTLE  OF  DR.   SHRAPIfEL  265 

in  bad  handwriting.  We  can  tell  black  from  white,  and  our 
sagacity  has  taught  him  a  lesson. 

Colonel  Halkett  glanced  at  the  detestable  penmanship. 
Lord  Palmet  did  the  same,  and  cried,  "Why,  it's  worse 
than  mine ! " 

Cecilia  had  protested  against  the  reading  of  the  letter, 
and  she  declined  to  look  at  the  writing.  She  was  entreated, 
adjured  to  look,  in  Captain  Baskelett's  peculiarly  pursuing 
fashion;  a  "nay,  but  you  shall,"  that  she  had  been  subjected 
to  previously,  and  would  have  consented  to  run  like  a 
schoolgirl  to  escape  from. 

To  resume  the  defence  of  him :  he  was  a  man  incapable 
of  forming  plots,  because  his  head  would  not  hold  them. 
He  was  an  impulsive  man,  who  could  impale  a  character  of 
either  sex  by  narrating  fables  touching  persons  of  whom  he 
thought  lightly,  and  that  being  done  he  was  devoid  of 
malice,  unless  by  chance  his  feelings  or  his  interests  were 
so  aggrieved  that  his  original  haphazard  impulse  was  bent 
to  embrace  new  circumstances  and  be  the  parent  of  a  line 
of  successive  impulses,  in  the  main  resembling  an  extremely 
far-sighted  plot,  whereat  he  gazed  back  with  fondness,  all 
the  while  protesting  sincerely  his  perfect  innocence  of  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  Circumstances  will  often  interwind  with 
the  moods  of  simply  irritated  men.  In  the  present  instance 
he  could  just  perceive  what  might  immediately  come  of  his 
reading  out  of  this  atrocious  epistle  wherein  Nevil  Beau- 
champ  was  displayed  the  dangling  puppet  of  a  mountebank 
wire-puller,  infidel,  agitator,  leveller,  and  scoundrel.  Cog- 
nizant of  Mr.  Eomfrey's  overtures  to  Colonel  Halkett,  he 
traced  them  to  that  scheming  woman  in  the  house  at  Steyn- 
ham,  and  he  was  of  opinion  that  it  was  a  friendly  and  good 
thing  to  do  to  let  the  old  colonel  and  Cissy  Halkett  know 
Mr.  Nevil  through  a  bit  of  his  correspondence.  This,  then, 
was  a  matter  of  business  and  duty  that  furnished  an  excuse 
for  his  going  out  of  his  way  to  call  at  Mount  Laurels  on  the 
old  familiar  footing,  so  as  not  to  alarm  the  heiress. 

A  warrior  accustomed  to  wear  the  burnished  breast  plates 
between  London  and  Windsor  has,  we  know,  more  need  to 
withstand  than  to  discharge  the  shafts  of- amorous  passion  ; 
he  is  indeed,  as  an  object  of  beauty,  notoriously  compelled  to 
be  of  the  fair  sex  in  his  tactics,  and  must  practise  the  arts 


266  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

and  whims  of  nymphs  to  preserve  himself :  and  no  doubt  it 
was  the  case  with  the  famous  Captain  Baskelett,  in  whose 
mind  sweet  ladies  held  the  place  that  the  pensive  politician 
gives  to  the  masses,  dreadful  in  their  hatred,  almost  as  dread- 
ful in  their  affection.  But  an  heiress  is  a  distinct  species 
among  women ;  he  hungered  for  the  heiress ;  his  eleva- 
tion to  Parliament  made  him  regard  her  as  both  the  orna- 
ment and  the  prop  of  his  position  ;  and  it  should  be  added 
that  his  pride,  all  the  habits  of  thought  of  a  conqueror 
of  women,  had  been  shocked  by  that  stupefying  rejec- 
tion of  him,  which  Cecilia  had  intimated  to  her  father 
with  the  mere  lowering  of  her  eyelids.  Conceive  the 
highest  bidder  at  an  auction  hearing  the  article  announce 
that  it  will  not  have  him  !  Captain  Baskelett  talked  of  it 
everywhere  for  a  month  or  so  :  —  the  girl  could  not  know 
her  own  mind,  for  she  suited  him  exactly  !  and  he  requested 
the  world  to  partake  of  his  astonishment.  Chronicles  of 
the  season  in  London  informed  him  that  he  was  not  the 
only  fellow  to  whom  the  gates  were  shut.  She  could  hardly 
be  thinking  of  Nevil  ?  However,  let  the  epistle  be  read. 
"  Now  for  the  Shrapnel  shot,"  he  nodded  finally  to  Colonel 
Halkett,  expanded  his  bosom,  or  natural  cuirass,  as  before- 
mentioned,  and  was  vocable  above  the  common  pitch :  — 

"  *  My  brave  Beauch amp,  —  On  with  your  mission,  and 
never  a  summing  of  results  in  hand,  nor  thirst  for  prospects, 
nor  countings  upon  harvests ;  for  seed  sown  in  faith  day  by 
day  is  the  nightly  harvest  of  the  soul,  and  with  the  soul  we 
work.    With  the  soul  we  see.' " 

Captain  Baskelett  intervened  :  "  Ahem  !  I  beg  to  observe 
that  this  delectable  rubbish  is  underlined  by  old  Nevil's 
pencil.''  He  promised  to  do  a  little  roaring  whenever  it 
occurred,  and  continued  with  ghastly  false  accentuation,  an 
intermittent  sprightliness  and  depression  of  tone  in  the 
wrong  places. 

"  ^  The  soul,'  et  csetera.  Here  we  are !  ^  Desires  to 
realize  our  gains  are  akin  to  the  passion  of  usury ;  these  are 
tricks  of  the  usurer  to  grasp  his  gold  in  act  and  imagination. 
Have  none  of  them.  Work  at  the  people! '  —  At  them,  re- 
mark !  —  ^  Moveless  do  they  seem  to  you  ?     Why,  so  is  the 


THE  EPISTLE   OF  DR.    SHRAPNEL  267 

eartli  to  tlie  sowing  husbandman,  and  though  we  cannot 
forecast  a  reaping  season,  we  have  in  histqry  durable  testi- 
fication that  our  seasons  come  in  the  souls  of  men,  yea,  as  a 
planet  that  we  have  set  in  motion,  and  faster  and  faster  are 
we  spinning  it,  and  firmer  and  firmer  shall  we  set  it  to  regu- 
larity of  revolution.  That  means  life!  '  —  Shrapnel  rOars  : 
you  will  have  Nevil  in  a  minute.  —  ^  "Recognize  that  now  we 
have  bare  life ;  at  best  for  the  bulk  of  men  the  Saurian 
lizard's  broad  back  soaking  and  roasting  in  primeval  slime  ; 
or  say,  in  the  so-called  teachers  of  men,  as  much  of  life  as 
pricks  the  frog  in  March  to  stir  and  yawn,  and  up  on  a 
flaccid  leap  that  rolls  him  over  some  three  inches  nearer  to 
the  ditchwater  besought  by  his  instinct.' 

"  I  ask  you,  did  you  ever  hear  ?  The  flaccid  frog  !  But 
on  we  go. 

"  '  Professors,  prophets,  masters,  each  hitherto  has  had  his 
creed  and  system  to  offer,  good  mayhap  for  the  term ;  and 
each  has  put  it  forth  for  the  truth  everlasting,  to  drive  the 
dagger  to  the  heart  of  time,  and  put  the  axe  to  human 
growth !  —  that  one  circle  of  wisdom  issuing  of  the  expe- 
rience and  needs  of  their  day,  should  act  the  despot  over  all 
other  circles  for  ever !  —  so  where  at  first  light  shone  to  light 
the  yawning  frog  to  his  wet  ditch,  there,  with  the  necessi- 
tated revolution  of  men's  minds  in  the  course  of  ages,  dark- 
ness radiates  J* 

"  That 's  old  Nevil.  Upon  my  honour,  I  have  n't  a  notion 
of  what  it  all  means,  and  I  don't  believe  the  old  rascal 
Shrapnel  has  himself.  And  pray  be  patient,  my  dear 
colonel.  You  will  find  him  practical  presently.  I  '11  skip, 
if  you  tell  me  to.     Darkness  radiates,  does  it ! 

"  ^  The  creed  that  rose  in  heaven  sets  below  ;  and  where 
we  had  an  angel  we  have  claw-feet  and  fangs.  Ask  how 
that  is  !  The  creed  is  much  what  it  was  when  the  followers 
diverged  it  from  the  Founder.  But  humanity  is  not  where 
it  was  when  that  creed  was  food  and  guidance.  Creeds  Avill 
not  die  not  fighting.  We  cannot  root  them  up  out  of  us 
without  blood.' 

"He  threatens  blood! — ''Ours,  my  Beauchamp,  is  the 
belief  that  humanity  advances  beyond^the  limits  of  creeds, 
is  to  be  tied  to  none.  We  reverence  the  Master  in  his 
teachings  ;  we  behold  the  limits  of  him  in  his  creed  —  and 


^68  BEAUCHAMP*S  CAREEIt 

that  is  not  his  work.  We  truly  are  his  disciples,  who  see 
how  far  it  was  in  him  to  do  service  ;  not  they  that  made  of 
his  creed  a  strait-jacket  for  humanity.  So,  in  our  prayers 
we  dedicate  the  world  to  God,  not  calling  him  great  for  a 
title,  no  —  showing  him  we  know  him  great  in  a  limitless 
world,  lord  of  a  truth  we  tend  to,  have  not  grasped.  I  say 
Prayer  is  good.  I  counsel  it  to  you  again  and  again:  in 
joy,  in  sickness  of  heart.  The  infidel  will  not  pray^  the 
creed-slave  prays  to  the  image  in  his  box.' " 

*'  I  've  had  enough  ! "  Colonel  Halkett  ejaculated. 

^^  ^  We,' "  Captain  Baskelett  put  out  his  hand  for  silence 
with  an  ineffable  look  of  entreaty,  for  here  was  Shrapnel's 
hypocrisy  in  full  bloom  :  "  *we  make  prayer  a  part  of  us, 
praying  for  no  gifts,  no  interventions  ;  through  the  faith  in 
prayer  opening  the  soul  to  the  undiscerned.  And  take  this, 
my  Beauchamp,  for  the  good  in  prayer,  that  it  makes  us 
repose  on  the  unknown  with  confidence,  makes  us  flexible 
to  change,  makes  us  ready  for  revolution  —  for  life,  then  ! 
He  who  has  the  fountain  of  prayer  in  him  will  not  complain 
of  hazards.  Prayer  is  the  recognition  of  laws;  the  soul's 
exercise  and  source  of  strength  ;  its  thread  of  conjunction 
with  them.  Prayer  for  an  object  is  the  cajolery  of  an  idol ; 
the  resource  of  superstition.  There  you  misread  it.  Beau- 
champ.  We  that  fight  the  living  world  must  have  the 
universal  for  succour  of  the  truth  in  it.  Cast  forth  the 
soul  in  prayer,  you  meet  the  effluence  of  the  outer  truth, 
you  join  with  the  creative  elements  giving  breath  to  you ; 
and  that  crust  of  habit  which  is  the  soul's  tomb ;  and 
custom,  the  soul's  tyrant ;  and  pride,  our  volcano-peak  that 
sinks  us  in  a  crater ;  and  fear,  which  plucks  the  feathers 
from  the  wings  of  the  soul  and  sits  it  naked  and  shivering 
in  a  vault,  where  the  passing  of  a  common  hodman's  foot 
above  sounds  like  the  king  of  terrors  coming,  —  you  are 
free  of  them,  you  live  in  the  day  and  for  the  future,  by  this 
exercise  and  discipline  of  the  soul's  faith.  Me  it  keeps 
young  everlastingly,  like  the  fountain  of  .  .  .'" 

"  I  say  I  cannot  sit  and  hear  any  more  of  it !  "  exclaimed 
the  colonel,  chafing  out  of  patience. 

Lord  Palmet  said  to  Miss  Halkett :  "  Is  n't  it  like  what 
we  used  to  remember  of  a  sermon  ?  " 

Cecilia  waited  for  her  father  to  break  away,  but  Captain 


THE  EPISTLE  OF  DE.   SHEAPNEL  269 

Baskelett  had  undertaken  to  skip,  and  was  murmuring  in 
sing-song  some  of  the  phrases  that  warned  him  off :  "  ^  His- 
tory'—  Bible  of  Humanity ;  .  .  .Permanency — enthusiast's 
dream  —  despot's  aim  —  clutch  of  dead  men's  fingers  in  live 
flesh  .  .  .  Man  animal ;  man  angel ;  man  rooted ;  man 
winged : '  .  .  .  Really,  all  this  is  too  bad.  Ah !  here  we 
are  :  '  At  them  with  outspeaking,  Beauchamp  ! '  Here  we 
are,  colonel,  and  you  will  tell  me  whether  you  think  it 
treasonable  or  not.  ^  At  them,'  et  caetera :  ^  We  have  signed 
no  convention  to  respect  their  '  —  he  speaks  of  Englishmen, 
Colonel  Halkett  —  ^  their  passive  idolatries  ;  a  people  with 
whom  a  mute  conformity  is  as  good  as  worship,  but  a  word 
o£  dissent  holds  you  up  to  execration  ;  and  only  for  the  free- 
dom won  in  foregone  days  their  hate  would  be  active.  As 
we  have  them  in  their  present  stage,'  —  old  Nevil's  mark  — 
'  We  are  not  parties  to  the  tacit  agreement  to  fill  our  mouths 
and  shut  our  eyes.  We  speak  because  it  is  better  they  be 
roused  to  lapidate  us  than  soused  in  their  sty,  with  none  to 
let  them  hear  they  live  like  swine,  craving  only  not  to  be 
disturbed  at  the  trough.  The  religion  of  this  vast  English 
middle-class  ruling  the  land  is  Comfort.  It  is  their  central 
thought ;  their  idea  of  necessity  ;  their  sole  aim.  Whatso- 
ever ministers  to  Comfort,  seems  to  belong  to  it,  pretends 
to  support  it,  they  yield  their  passive  worship  to.  Whatso- 
ever alarms  it  they  join  to  crush.  There  you  get  at  their 
point  of  unity.  They  will  pay  for  the  security  of  Comfort, 
calling  it  national  worship,  or  national  defence,  if  too  much 
money  is  not  subtracted  from  the  means  of  individual  com- 
fort :  if  too  much  foresight  is  not  demanded  for  the  comfort 
of  their  brains.  Have  at  them  there.  Speak.  Moveless  as 
you  find  them,  they  are  not  yet  all  gross  clay,  and  I  say 
again,  the  true  word  spoken  has  its  chance  of  somewhere 
alighting  and  striking  root.  Look  not  to  that.  Seeds  perish 
in  nature ;  good  men  fail.  Look  to  the  truth  in  you,  and 
deliver  it,  with  no  afterthought  of  hope,  for  hope  is  dogged 
by  dread ;  we  give  our  courage  as  hostage  for  the  fulfilment 
of  what  we  hope.  Meditate  on  that  transaction.  Hope  is 
for  boys  and  girls,  to  whom  nature  is  kind.  For  men  to 
hope  is  to  tremble.  Let  prayer  —  the  soul's  &verflow,  the 
heart's  resignation  —  supplant  it  .  .  .' 

"  Pardon,  colonel ;  I  forgot  to  roar,  but  old  Nevil  marks 


270  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

all  down  that  page  for  encomium,"  said  Captain  Baskelett. 
"Oh!  here  we  are.  English  loyalty  is  the  subject.  Now, 
pray  attend  to  this,  colonel.  Shrapnel  communicates  to 
Beauchamp  that  if  ten  Beauchamps  were  spouting  over  the 
country  without  intermission  he  might  condescend  to  hope. 
So  on  —  to  British  loyalty.  We  are,  so  long  as  our  sovereigns 
are  well-conducted  persons,  and  we  cannot  unseat  them  — 
observe ;  he  is  eminently  explicit,  the  old  traitor !  —  we  are 
to  submit  to  the  outward  forms  of  respect,  but  we  are 
frankly  to  say  we  are  Eepublicans ;  he  has  the  impudence 
to  swear  that  England  is  a  Eepublican  country,  and  calls 
our  thoroughgoing  loyalty  —  yours  and  mine,  colonel  —  dis- 
loyalty. Hark:  *  Where  kings  lead,  it  is  to  be  supposed 
they  are  wanted.  Service  is  the  noble  office  on  earth,  and 
where  kings  do  service  let  them  take  the  first  honours  of  the 
State :  but '  —  hark  at  this  —  '  the  English  middle  class, 
which  has  absorbed  the  upper,  and  despises,  w^hen  it  is  not 
quaking  before  it,  the  lower,  will  have  nothing  above  it  but 
a  rickety  ornament  like  that  you  see  on  a  confectioner's 
twelfth-cake.'  " 

"  The  man  deserves  hanging ! "  said  Colonel  Halkett. 

"Further,  my  dear  colonel,  and  Nevil  marks  it  pretty 
much  throughout :  '  This  loyalty  smacks  of  a  terrible  perfidy. 
Pass  the  lords  and  squires ;  they  are  old  trees,  old  founda- 
tions, or  joined  to  them,  whether  old  or  new  ;  they  naturally 
apprehend  dislocation  when  a  wind  blows,  a  river  rises,  or  a 
man  speaks  ;  —  that  comes  of  age  or  aping  age  :  their  hearts 
are  in  their  holdings !  For  the  loyalty  of  the  rest  of  the 
land,  it  is  the  shopkeeper's  loyalty,  which  is  to  be  computed 
by  the  exact  annual  sum  of  his  net  profits.  It  is  now  at  high 
tide.  It  will  last  with  the  prosperity  of  our  commerce.'  — 
The  insolent  old  vagabond  !  —  *  Let  commercial  disasters 
come  on  us,  and  what  of  the  loyalty  now  paying  its  hundreds 
of  thousands,  and  howling  down  questioners  !  In  a  day  of 
bankruptcies,  how  much  would  you  bid  for  the  loyalty  of  a 
class  shivering  under  deprivation  of  luxuries,  with  its  God 
Comfort  beggared  ?  Ay,  my  Beauchamp,'  —  the  most  offen- 
sive thing  to  me  is  that  '  my  Beauchamp,'  but  old  Nevil  has 
evidently  given  himself  up  hand  and  foot  to  this  ruffian  — 
*  ay,  when  you  reflect  that  fear  of  tha  so-called  rabble,  i.  e. 
the  people,  the  unmoneyed  class,  which  knows  not  Comfort, 


THE  EPISTLE  OF  DR.   SHRAPNEL  271 

tastes  not  of  luxuries,  is  the  main  component  of  their  noisy 
frigid  loyalty,  and  that  the  people  are  not  with  them  but 
against,  and  yet  that  the  people  might  be  won  by  visible 
forthright  kingly  service  to  a  loyalty  outdoing  theirs  as 
the  sun  the  moon;  ay,  that  the  people  verily  thirst  to 
love  and  reverence ;  and  that  their  love  is  the  onhj  love  worth 
having,  because  it  is  disinterested  love,  and  endures,  and 
takes  heat  in  adversity,  —  reflect  on  it  and  wonder  at  the 
inversion  of  things  !  So  with  a  Church.  It  lives  if  it  is  at 
home  with  the  poor.  In  the  arms  of  enriched  shopkeepers 
it  rots,  goes  to  decay  in  vestments  —  vestments  !  flakes  of 
mummy-wraps  for  it !  or  else  they  use  it  for  one  of  their 
political  truncheons  —  to  awe  the  ignorant  masses  :  I  quote 
them.  So.  Not  much  ahead  of  ancient  Egyptians  in  spiri- 
tuality or  in  priestcraft !  They  call  it  statesmanship.  0 
for  a  word  for  it !  Let  Palsy  and  Cunning  go  to  form  a 
word.  Deadmanship,  I  call  it.'  —  To  quote  my  uncle  the 
baron,  this  is  lunatic  dribble !  —  ^  Parsons  and  princes  are 
happy  with  the  homage  of  this  huge  passive  fleshpot  class. 
It  is  enough  for  them.  Why  not  ?  The  taxes  are  paid  and 
the  tithes.     Whilst  commercial  prosperity  lasts !  '  '^ 

Colonel  Halkett  threw  his  arms  aloft. 

" '  Meanwhile,  note  this :  the  people  are  the  Power  to 
come.  Oppressed,  unprotected,  abandoned  ;  left  to  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  the  tides  of  the  market,  now  taken  on  to  work, 
now  cast  off  to  starve,  committed  to  the  shifting  laws  of 
demand  and  supply,  slaves  of  Capital  —  the  whited  name  for 
old  accursed  Mammon :  and  of  all  the  ranked  and  black- 
uniformed  host  no  pastor  to  come  out  of  the  association  of 
shepherds,  and  proclaim  before  heaven  and  man  the  primary 
claim  of  their  cause; — they  are,  I  say,  the  power,  worth 
the  seduction  of  by  another  Power  not  mighty  in  England 
now :  and  likely  in  time  to  set  up  yet  another  Power  not 
existing  in  England  now.  What  if  a  passive  comfortable 
clergy  hand  them  over  to  men  on  the  models  of  Irish 
pastors,  who  will  succour,  console,  enfold,  champion  them  ? 
what  if,  when  they  have  learnt  to  use  their  majority,  sick 
of  deceptions  and  the  endless  pulling  of  interests,  they  raise 
ONE  representative  to  force  the  current  of  action  with  an 
authority  as  little  fictitious  as  their  preponderance  of  num 
bers  ?    The  despot  and  the  priest !    There  I  see  our  danger 


272  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEBR 

Beauchamp.  You  aud  I  and  some  dozen  labour  to  tie  and 
knot  them  to  manliness.  We  are  few ;  they  are  many  and 
weak.  Eome  offers  them  real  comfort  in  return  for  their 
mites  in  coin,  and  —  poor  souls  !  mites  in  conscience,  many 
of  them.  A  Tyrant  offers  them  to  be  directly  their  friend. 
Ask,  Beauchamp,  why  they  should  not  have  comfort  for  pay 
as  well  as  the  big  round  — ' "  Captain  Baskelett  stopped 
and  laid  the  letter  out  for  Colonel  Halkett  to  read  an 
unmentionable  word,  shamelessly  marked  by  Nevil's  pencil 
—  '  heWy-class  !  *  Ask,  too,  whether  the  comfort  they  wish 
for  is  not  approaching  divine  compared  with  the  stagnant 
fleshliness  of  that  fat  shopkeeper's  Comfort. 

"*Warn  the  people  of  this.  Ay,  warn  the  clergy.  It  is 
not  only  the  poor  that  are  caught  by  ranters.  Endeavour 
to  make  those  accommodating  shepherds  understand  that 
they  stand  a  chance  of  losing  rich  as  well  as  poor !  It 
should  awaken  them.  The  helpless  poor  and  the  uneasy 
rich  are  alike  open  to  the  seductions  of  Romish  priests  and 
intoxicated  ranters.  I  say  so  it  will  be  if  that  band  of 
forty  thousand  go  on  slumbering  and  nodding.  They  walk 
in  a  dream.     The  flesh  is  a  dream.     The  soul  only  is  life.' 

"Now  for  you,  colonel. 

"  '  No  extension  of  the  army  —  no !  A  thousand  times 
no.  Let  India  go,  then  !  Good  for  India  that  we  hold 
India  ?  Ay,  good  :  but  not  at  such  a  cost  as  an  extra  tax, 
or  compulsory  service  of  our  working  man.  If  India  is  to 
be  held  for  the  good  of  India,  throw  open  India  to  the 
civilized  nations,  that  they  help  us  in  a  task  that  over- 
strains us.  At  present  India  means  utter  perversion  of 
the  policy  of  England.  Adrift  India  !  rather  than  England 
red-coated.     We  dissent,  Beauchamp  !     For  by-and-by.' 

"  That  is,"  Captain  Baskelett  explained,  "  by-and-by 
Shrapnel  will  have  old  Nevil  fast  enough." 

"  Is  there  more  of  it  ?  "  said  Colonel  Halkett,  flapping 
his  forehead  for  coolness. 

"  The  impudence  of  this  dog  in  presuming  to  talk  about 
India  !  —  eh,  colonel  ?  Only  a  paragraph  or  two  more  :  I 
skip  a  lot.  .  .  .  Ah  !  here  we  are."  Captain  Baskelett  read 
to  himself  and  laughed  in  derision :  "He  calls  our  Constitu- 
tion a  compact  unsigned  by  the  larger  number  involved  in  it. 
What 's  this  ?     '■  A  band  of  dealers  in  fleshpottery.^     Do 


THE  EPISTLE   OF  DR.   SHBAPNEL  273 

you  detect  a  gleam  of  sense  ?  He  underscores  it.  Then 
he  comes  to  this :  '^  Captain  Baskelett  requested  Colonel 
Halkett  to  read  for  himself :  "  The  stench  of  the  trail  of 
Ego  in  our  History." 

The  colonel  perused  it  with  an  unsavoury  expression  oi 
his  features,  and  jumped  up. 

"  Oddly,  Mr.  Komfrey  thought  this  rather  clever,"  said 
Captain  Baskelett,  and  read  rapidly  :  "  ^  Trace  the  course  of 
Ego  for  them  :  first  the  king  who  conquers  and  can  govern. 
In  his  egoism  he  dubs  him  holy  ;  his  family  is  of  a  selected 
blood;  he  makes  the  crown  hereditary  —  Ego.  Son  by  son 
the  shame  of  egoism  increases ;  valour  abates ;  hereditary 
Crown,  no  hereditary  qualities.  The  Barons  rise.  They 
in  turn  hold  sway,  and  for  their  order  —  Ego.  The  traders 
overturn  them ;  each  class  rides  the  classes  under  it  while  it 
can.  It  is  ego  —  ego,  the  fountain  cry,  origin,  sole  source 
of  war  !  Then  death  to  ego,  I  say !  If  those  traders  had 
ruled  for  other  than  ego,  power  might  have  rested  with 
them  on  broad  basis  enough  to  carry  us  forward  for  centu- 
ries. The  workmen  have  ever  been  too  anxious  to  be  ruled. 
Now  comes  on  th'^  workman's  era.  Numbers  win  in  the 
end:  proof  of  small  wisdom  in  the  world.  Anyhow,  with 
numbers  there  is  rough  nature's  wisdom  and  justice.  With 
numbers  ego  is  inter-dependent  and  dispersed ;  it  is  univer- 
salized. Yet  these  may  require  correctives.  If  so,  they 
will  have  it  in  a  series  of  despots  and  revolutions  that  toss, 
mix,  and  bind  the  classes  together :  despots,  revolutions  ; 
panting  alternations  of  the  quickened  heart  of  humanity : ' 
marked  by  our  friend  Nevil  in  notes  of  admiration." 

"  Mad  as  the  writer,"  groaned  Colonel  Halkett.  ^'  Never 
in  my  life  have  I  heard  such  stuff." 

"  Stay,  colonel ;  here 's  Shrapnel  defending  Morality  and 
Society,"  said  Captain  Baskelett. 

Colonel  Halkett  vowed  he  was  under  no  penal  law  to 
listen,  and  would  not;  but  Captain  Baskelett  persuaded 
him  :  "  Yes,  here  it  is  :  I  give  you  my  word.  Apparently 
old  Nevil  has  been  standing  up  for  every  man's  right  to 
run  away  with  .  .  .  Yes,  really  !  I  give  you  my  word  ;  and 
here  we  have  Shrapnel  insisting  on  respect  for  the  marriage 
laws.  Do  hear  this ;  here  it  is  in  black  and  white  :  — '  Soci- 
ety is  our  one  tangible  gain,  our  one  roofing  and  flooring  ia 

18 


274  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

a  world  of  most  uncertain  structures  built  on  morasses. 
Toward  the  laws  that  support  it  men  hopeful  of  progress 
give  their  adhesion.  If  it  is  martyrdom,  what  then  ?  Let 
the  martyrdom  be.  Contumacy  is  animalism.  And  attend 
to  me/  says  Shrapnel,  *  the  truer  the  love  the  readier  for 
sacrifice !  A  thousand  times  yes.  Eebellion  against  Society, 
and  advocacy  of  Plumanity,  run  counter.  Tell  me  Societj' 
is  the  whited  sepulchre,  that  it  is  blotched,  hideous,  h^low : 
and  I  say,  add  not  another  disfigurement  to  it ;  add  to  the 
purification  of  it.  And  you,  if  you  answer,  what  can  only 
one  ?  I  say  that  is  the  animal's  answer,  and  applies  also 
to  politics,  where  the  question,  what  can  one  ?  put  in  the 
relapsing  tone,  shows  the  country  decaying  in  the  indi- 
vidual. Society  is  the  protection  of  the  weaker,  therefore 
a  shield  of  women,  who  are  our  temple  of  civilization,  to  be 
kept  sacred ;  and  he  that  loves  a  woman  will  assuredly 
esteem  and  pity  her  sex,  and  not  drag  her  down  for  another 
example  of  their  frailty.  Fight  this  out  within  you  — !  ' 
But  you  are  right,  colonel ;  we  have  had  sufiicient.  I  shall 
be  getting  a  democratic  orator's  twang,  or  a  crazy  parson's, 
if  I  go  on  much  further.  He  covers  thirty-two  pages  of 
letter-paper.  The  conclusion  is  :  —  *  Jenny  sends  you  her 
compliments,  Tespects,  and  best  wishes,  and  hopes  she  may 
see  you  before  she  goes  to  her  friend  Clara  Sherwin  and 
the  general.'  " 

"  Sherwin  ?  Why,  General  Sherwin 's  a  perfect  gentle- 
man," Colonel  Halkett  interjected ;  and  Lord  Palmet  caught 
the  other  name:  "Jenny?  That's  Miss  Denham,  Jenny 
Denham ;  an  amazingly  pretty  girl :  beautiful  thick  brown 
hair,  real  hazel  eyes,  and  walks  like  a  yacht  before  the 
wind." 

"Perhaps,  colonel,  Jenny  accounts  for  the  d^ence  of 
society,"  said  Captain  Baskelett.  "  I  have  no  doubt  Shrap- 
nel has  a  scheme  for  Jenny.  The  old  communist  arid 
socialist ! "  He  folded  up  the  letter :  "  A  curious  composi- 
tion, is  it  not,  Miss  Halkett  ?  " 

Cecilia  was  thinking  that  he  tempted  her  to  be  the  apolo- 
gist of  even  such  a  letter. 

" On-e  likes  to  know  the  worst,  and  what's  possible,"  said 
the  colonel. 

After  Captain  Baskelett  had  gone,  Colonel  Halkett  per- 


THE  BAITING  OF  DE.   SHRAPNEL  275 

sis  ted  in  talking  of  the  letter,  and  would  have  impressed 
on  his  daughter  that  the  person  to  whom  the  letter  was 
addressed  must  be  partly  responsible  for  the  contents  of  it. 
Cecilia  put  on  the  argumentative  air  of  a  Court  of  Equity 
to  discuss  the  point  with  him. 

^^Then  you  defend  that  letter? "  he  cried. 

Oh,  no  :  she  did  not  defend  the  letter ;  she  thought  it 
wicked  and  senseless.  "But,"  said  she,  "the  superior 
strength  of  men  to  women  seems  to  me  to  come  from  their 
examining  all  subjects,  shrinking  from  none.  At  least,  I 
should  not  condemn  Nevil  on  account  of  his  correspond- 
ence." 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  her  father,  sighing  rather  heavily. 
"I  must  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Romfrey  about  that  letter." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE    BAITING   OF    DR.  SHRAPNEL 

Captain  Baskelett  went  down  from  Mount  Laurels  to 
Bevisham  to  arrange  for  the  giving  of  a  dinner  to  certain 
of  his  chief  supporters  in  the  borough,  that  they  might 
know  he  was  not  obliged  literally  to  sit  in  Parliament  in 
order  to  pay  a  close  attention  to  their  affairs.  He  had  not 
distinguished  himself  by  a  speech  during  the  session,  but 
he  had  stored  a  political  precept  or  two  in  his  memory,  and, 
as  he  told  Lord  Palmet,  he  thought  a  dinner  was  due  to  his 
villains.  ^  "  The  way  to  manage  your  Englishman,  Palmet, 
is  to  dine  him."  As  the  dinner  would  decidedly  be  dull,  he 
insisted  on  having  Lord  Palmet's  company.  They  crossed 
over  to  the  yachting  island,  where  portions  of  the  letter  of 
Commander  Beauchamp's  correspondent  were  read  at  the 
Club,  under  the  verandah,  and  the  question  put,  whether 
a  ijian  who  held  those  opinions  had  a  right  to  wear  his 
uniform. 

The  letter  was  transmitted  to  Steynham  in  time  to  be 
consigned  to  the  pocket-book  before  Beauchamp  arrived 
there  on  one  of  his  rare  visits.     Mr.  Komfrey  handed  him 


276  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

the  pocket-book  with  the  frank  declaration  that  he  had  read 
Shrapnel's  letter.  ''All  is  fair  in  war,  sir  ! ''  Beauchamp 
quoted  him  ambiguously. 

The  thieves  tiad  amused  Mr.  Komfrey  by  their  scrupu- 
lous honesty  in  returning  what  was  useless  to  them,  while 
reserving  the  coat :  but  subsequently  seeing  the  advertized 
reward,  they  had  written  to  claim  it ;  and,  according  to 
Rosamund  Culling,  he  had  been  so  tickled  that  he  had 
deigned  to  reply  to  them,  very  briefl}',  but  very  comically. 

Speaking  of  the  matter  with  her,  Beauchamp  said  (so 
greatly  was  he  infatuated  with  the  dangerous  man)  that  the 
reading  of  a  letter  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  could  do  nothing  but 
good  to  any  reflecting  human  creature :  he  admitted  that  as 
the  lost  pocket-book  was  addressed  to  JV^r.  Eomfrey,  it 
might  have  been  by  mistake  that  he  had  opened  it,  and 
read  the  topmost  letter  lying  open.  But  he  pressed  Rosa- 
mund to  say  whether  that  one  only  had  been  read. 

"  Only  Dr.  Shrapnel's  letter,"  Rosamund  affirmed.  "  The 
letter  from  Normandy  was  untouched  by  him." 

"  Untouched  by  anybody  ?  " 

"  Unopened,  Nevil.     You  look  incredulous." 

"  Not  if  I  have  your  word,  ma'am." 

He  glanced  somewhat  contemptuously  at  his  uncle 
Everard's  anachronistic  notions  of  what  was  fair  in  war. 

To  prove  to  him  Mr.  Romfrey's  affectionate  interest  in 
his  fortunes,  Rosamund  mentioned  the  overtures  which  had 
been  made  to  Colonel  Halkett  for  a  nuptial  allowance  be- 
tween the  two  houses  ;  and  she  said :  "  Your  uncle  Everard 
was  completely  won  by  your  manly  way  of  taking  his  op- 
position to  you  in  Bevisham.  He  pays  for  Captain  Bas- 
kelett,  but  you  and  your  fortunes  are  nearest  his  heart, 
Nevil." 

Beauchamp  hung  silent.  His  first  remark  was,  "Yes, 
I  want  money.  I  must  have  money."  By  degrees  he 
seemed  to  warm  to  some  sense  of  gratitude.  "  It  was  kind 
of  the  baron,"  he  said. 

"He  has  a  great  affection  for  you,  Nevil,  though  you 
know  he  spares  no  one  who  chooses  to  be  antagonistic. 
All  that  is  over.  But  do  you  not  second  him,  Nevil? 
You  admire  her  ?     You  are  not  adverse  ?  " 

Beauchamp  signified  the  horrid  intermixture  of  yes   and 


THE  BAITING  OF  DK.   SHRAPNEL  277 

no,  frowned  in  pain  of  mind,  and  walked  up  and  down. 
"There  's  no  living  woman  I  admire  so  much/* 

"  She  has  refused  the  highest  matches." 

"  I  hold  her  in  every  way  incomparable." 

"  She  tries  to  understand  your  political  ideas,  if  she  can- 
not quite  sympathize  with  them,  Nevil.  And  consider  how 
hard  it  is  for  a  young  English  lady,  bred  in  refinement,  to 
understand  such  things." 

"  Yes,"  Beauchamp  nodded ;  "  yes.  Well,  more  's  the 
pity  for  me  !  " 

'^  Ah !  Nevil,  that  fatal  Renee  !  " 

"  Ma'am,  I  acquit  you  of  any  suspicion  of  your  having 
read  her  letter  in  this  pocket-book.  She  wishes  me  to 
marry.  You  would  have  seen  it  written  here.  She  wishes 
it." 

"Fly,  clipped  wing!"  murmured  Rosamund,  and  pur- 
posely sent  a  buzz  into  her  ears  to  shut  out  his  extravagant 
talk  of  Eenee's  friendly  wishes. 

"  How  is  it  you  women  will  not  believe  in  the  sincerity 
of  a  woman  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Nevil,  I  am  not  alluding  to  the  damage  done  to  your 
election." 

"  To  my  candidature,  ma'am.  You  mean  those  rumours, 
those  lies  of  the  enemy.  Tell  me  how  I  could  suppose  you 
were  alluding  to  them.  You  bring  them  forward  now  to 
justify  your  charge  of  *  fatal '  against  her.  She  has  one 
fault ;  she  wants  courage ;  she  has  none  other,  not  one  that 
is  not  excusable.  We  won't  speak  of  France.  What  did 
her  father  say  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Halkett  ?  I  do  not  know.  He  and  his 
daughter  come  here  next  week,  and  the  colonel  will  expect 
to  meet  you  here.  That  does  not  look  like  so  positive  an 
objection  to  you  ?  " 

"  To  me  personally,  no,"  said  Beauchamp.  "But  Mr. 
Romfrey  has  not  told  me  that  I  am  to  meet  them." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  not  thought  it  worth  while.  It  is  not 
his  way.  He  has  asked  you  to  come.  You  and  Miss 
Halkett  will  be  left  to  yourselves.  Her  father  assured  Mr. 
Romfrey  that  he  should  not  go  beyond  advising  her.  His 
advice  might  not  be  exactly  favourable  to  you  at  present, 
but  if  you  sued  and  she  accepted  —  and  she  would,  I  am 


278  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

convinced  slie  would ;  she  was  here  with  me,  talking  of  you 
a  whole  afternoon,  and  I  have  eyes  —  then  he  would  not 
oppose  the  match,  and  then  I  should  see  you  settled,  the 
husband  of  the  handsomest  wife  and  richest  heiress  in 
England.'^ 

A  vision  of  Cecilia  swam  before  him,  gracious  in  state- 
liness. 

Two  weeks  back  Eenee's  expression  of  a  wish  that  he 
would  marry  had  seemed  to  him  an  idle  sentence  in  a  letter 
breathing  of  her  own  intolerable  situation.  The  marquis 
had  been  struck  down  by  illness.  What  if  she  were  to  be 
soon  suddenly  free  ?  But  Eenee  could  not  be  looking  to 
freedom,  otherwise  she  never  would  have  written  the  wish 
for  him  to  marry.  She  wrote  perhaps  hearing  temptation 
whisper ;  perhaps  wishing  to  save  herself  and  him  by  the 
aid  of  a  tie  that  would  bring  his  honour  into  play  and  fix 
his  loyalty.  He  remembered  Dr.  Shrapnel's  written  words : 
"  Rebellion  against  society  and  advocacy  of  humanity  run 
counter. ^^  They  had  a  stronger  effect  on  him  than  when  he 
was  ignorant  of  his  uncle  Everard's  plan  to  match  him  with 
Cecilia.  He  took  refuge  from  them  in  the  image  of  that 
beautiful  desolate  Renee,  born  to  be  beloved,  now  wasted, 
worse  than  trodden  under  foot  —  perverted;  a  life  that 
looked  to  him  for  direction  and  resuscitation.  She  was  as 
good  as  dead  in  her  marriage.  It  was  impossible  for  him 
ever  to  think  of  Eenee  without  the  surprising  thrill  of  his 
enchantment  with  her,  and  tender  pity  that  drew  her  closer 
to  him  by  darkening  her  brightness. 

Still  a  man  may  love  his  wife.  A  wife  like  Cecilia  was 
not  to  be  imagined  coldly.  Let  the  knot  once  be  tied,  it 
would  not  be  regretted,  could  not  be  ;  hers  was  a  character, 
and  hers  a  smile,  firmly  assuring  him  of  that. 

He  told  Mr.  Eomfrey  that  he  should  be  glad  to  meet 
Colonel  Halkett  and  Cecilia.  Business  called  him  to 
Holdesbury.  Thence  he  betook  himself  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
cottage  to  say  farewell  to  Jenny  Denham  previous  to  her 
departure  for  Switzerland  with  her  friend  Clara  Sherwin. 
She  had  never  seen  a  snow-mountain,  and  it  was  pleasant  to 
him  to  observe  injier  eyes,  which  he  had  known  weighing 
and  balancing  intellectual  questions  more  than  he  quite 
liked,  a  childlike  effort  to  conjure  in  imagination  the  glories 


THE  BAITING   OF  DR.   SHRAPISTEL  279 

of  the  Alps.  She  appeared  very  happy,  only  a  little  anxious 
about  leaving  Dr.  Shrapnel  with  no  one  to  take  care  of  him 
for  a  whole  month.  Beauchamp  promised  he  would  run 
over  to  him  from  Holdesbury,  only  an  hour  by  rail,  as  often 
as  he  could.  He  envied  her  the  sight  of  the  Alps,  he  said, 
and  tried  to  give  her  an  idea  of  them,  from  which  he  broke 
off  to  boast  of  a  famous  little  Jersey  bull  that  he  had  won 
from  a  rival,  an  American,  deeply  in  love  with  the  bull ; 
cutting  him  out  by  telegraph  by  just  five  minutes.  The 
latter  had  examined  the  bull  in  the  island  and  had  passed 
on  to  Paris,  not  suspecting  there  would  be  haste  to  sell  him. 
Beauchamp,  seeing  the  bull  advertized,  took  him  on  trust, 
galloped  to  the  nearest  telegraph  station  forthwith,  and  so 
obtained  possession  of  him ;  and  the  bull  was  now  shipped 
on  the  voyage.  But  for  this  precious  bull,  however,  and 
other  business,  he  would  have  been  able  to  spend  almost  the 
entire  month  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  he  said  regretfully.  Miss 
D'enham  on  the  contrary  did  not  regret  his  active  occupation. 
The  story  of  his  rush  from  the  breakfast-table  to  the  stables, 
and  gallop  away  to  the  station,  while  the  American  Quaker 
gentleman  soberly  paced  down  a  street  in  Paris  on  the  same 
errand,  in  invisible  rivalry,  touched  her  risible  fancy.  She 
was  especially  pleased  to  think  of  him  living  in  harmony 
with  his  uncle  —  that  strange,  lofty,  powerful  man,  who  by 
plot  or  by  violence  punished  opposition  to  his  will,  but  who 
must  be  kind  at  heart,  as  well  as  forethoughtful  of  his 
nephew's  good ;  the  assurance  of  it  being,  that  when  the 
conflict  was  at  an  end  he  had  immediately  installed  him  ^s 
manager  of  one  of  his  estates,  to  give  his  energy  play  and 
make  him  practically  useful. 

The  day  before  she  left  home  was  passed  by  the  three  in 
botanizing,  some  miles  distant  from  Bevisham,  over  sand 
country,  marsh  and  meadow;  Dr.  Shrapnel,  deep  in  the 
science,  on  one.  side  of  her,  and  Beauchamp,  requiring 
instruction  in  the  names  and  properties  of  every  plant  and 
simple,  on  the  other.  It  was  a  day  of  summer  sweetness, 
gentle  laughter,  conversation,  and  the  happiest  homeliness. 
The  politicians  uttered  barely  a  syllable  of  politics.  The 
dinner  basket  was  emptied  heartily  to  make  way  for  herb 
and  flower,  and  at  night  the  expedition  homeward  was 
.  crowned  with  stars   along  a  road  refreshed  by   mid-day 


280  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

thunder-showers  and  smelling  of  the  rain  in  the  dust,  past 
meadows  keenly  scenting,  gardens  giving  out  their  inner- 
most balm  and  odour.  Late  at  night  they  drank  tea  in 
Jenny's  own  garden.  They  separated  a  little  after  two  in 
the  morning,  when  the  faded  Western  light  still  lay  warm 
on  a  bow  of  sky,  and  on  the  level  of  the  East  it  quickened. 
Jenny  felt  sure  she  should  long  for  that  yesterday  when 
she  was  among  foreign  scenes,  even  among  high  Alps  — 
those  mysterious  eminences  which  seemed  in  her  imagina- 
tion to  know  of  heaven  and  have  the  dawn  of  a  new  life 
for  her  beyond  their  peaks. 

Her  last  words  when  stepping  into  the  raikvay  carriage 
were  to  Beauchamp  :  "  Will  you  take  care  of  him  ?  "  She 
flung  her  arms  round  Dr.  Shrapnel's  neck,  and  gazed  at  him 
under  troubled  eyelids  which  seemed  to  be  passing  in  re- 
view every  vision  of  possible  harm  that  might  come  to  him 
during  her  absence ;  and  so  she  continued  gazing,  and  at  no 
one  but  Dr.  Shrapnel  until  the  bend  of  the  line  cut  him 
from  her  sight.  Beauchamp  was  a  very  secondary  person 
on  that  occasion,  and  he  was  unused  to  being  so  in  the 
society  of  women  —  unused  to  find  himself  entirely  eclipsed 
by  their  interest  in  another.  He  speculated  on  it,  wonder- 
ing at  her  concentrated  fervency  ;  for  he  had  not  supposed 
her  to  possess  much  warmth. 

After  she  was  fairly  off  on  her  journey,  Dr.  Shrapnel 
mentioned  to  Beauchamp  a  case  of  a  Steynham  poacher, 
whom  he  had  thought  it  his  duty  to  supply  with  means  of 
defence.     It  was  a  common  poaching  case. 

Beauchamp  was  not  surprised  that  Mr.  Komfrey  and  Dr. 
Shrapnel  should  come  to  a  collision ;  the  marvel  was  that 
it  had  never  occurred  before,  and  Beauchamp  said  at  onc^  : 
"  Oh,  my  uncle  Mr.  Eomfrey  would  rather  see  them  stand 
their  ground  than  not."  He  was  disposed  to  think  well  of 
his  uncle.    The  Jersey  bull  called  him  away  to  Holdesbury. 

Captain  Baskelett  heard  of  this  poaching  case  at  Steyn- 
ham, where  he  had  to  appear  in  person  when  he  was  in 
want  of  cheques,  and  the  Bevisham  dinner  furnished  an 
excuse  for  demanding  one.  He  would  have  preferred  a 
positive  sum  annually.  Mr.  Romfrey,  however,  though  he 
wrote  his  cheques  out  like  the  lord  he  was  by  nature, 
exacted  the  request  for  them  j  a  system  that  kept  the  gaj- 


THE  BAITIKG  OF  DR.   SHBAPNEL  281 

lant  gentleman  on  his  good  behaviour,  probably  at  a  lower 
cost  than  the  regular  stipend.  In  handing  the  cheque  to 
Cecil  Baskelett,  Mr.  Eomfrey  spoke  of  a  poacher,  of  an  old 
poaching'  family  called  the  Dicketts,  who  wanted  punish- 
ment and  was  to  have  it,  but  Mr.  Romfrey's  local  lawyer 
had  informed  him  that  the  man  Shrapnel  was,  as  usual, 
supplying  the  means  of  defence.  For  his  own  part,  Mr. 
.Romfrey  said,  he  had  no  objection  to  one  rascal's  backing 
another,  and  Shrapnel  might  hit  his  hardest,  only  perhaps 
Nevil  might  somehow  get  mixed  up  in  it,  and  Nevil  was 
going  on  quietly  now  —  he  had  in  fact  just  done  capitally 
in  lassoing  with  a  shot  of  the  telegraph  a  splendid  little 
Jersey  bull  that  a  Yankee  was  after:  and  on  the  whole  it 
was  best  to  try  to  keep  him  quiet,  for  he  was  mad  about 
th^t  man  Shrapnel;  Shrapnel  was  his  joss:  and  if  legal 
knocks  came  of  this  business  Nevil  might  be  thinking  of 
interfering:  '^  Or  he  and  I  may  be  getting  to  exchange  a 
lot  of  shindy  letters,"  Mr.  Romfrey  said.  "Tell  him  I 
take  Shrapnel  just  like  any  other  man,  and  don't  want  to 
hear  apologies,  and  I  don't  mix  him  up  in  it.  Tell  him  if 
he  likes  to  have  an  explanation  from  me,  I  '11  give  it  him 
when  he  comes  here.  You  can  run  over  to  Holdesbury  the 
morning  after  your  dinner." 

Captain  Baskelett  said  he  would  go.  He  was  pleased 
with  his  cheque  at  the  time,  but  hearing  subsequently  that 
Nevil  was  coming  to  Steynham  to  meet  Colonel  Halkett 
and  his  daughter,  he  became  displeased,  considering  it  a 
very  silly  commission.  The  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more 
ridiculous  and  unworthy  it  appeared.  He  asked  himself 
and  Lord  Palmet  also  why  he  should  have  to  go  to  Nevil  at 
Holdesbury  to  tell  him  of  circumstances  that  he  would  hear 
of  two  or  three  days  later  at  Steynham.  There  was  no 
sense  in  it.  The  only  conclusion  for  him  was  that  the 
scheming  woman  Culling  had  determined  to  bring  down 
every  man  concerned  in  the  Bevisham  election,  and  particu- 
larly Mr.  Romfrey,  on  his  knees  before  ISTevil.  Holdesbury 
had  been  placed  at  his  disposal,  and  the  use  of  the  house  in 
London,  which  latter  would  have  been  extremely  service- 
able to  Cecil  as  a  place  of  dinners  to  the  Parliament  of 
Great  Britain  in  lieu  of  the  speech-making  generally  ex- 
pected of  Members,  and  not  so  effectively  performed.     One 


282  BEAtrCHAMP's  CAEEER 

would  think  the  baron  had  grown  afraid  of  old  Nevil !  He 
had  spoken  as  if  he  were. 

Cecil  railed  unreservedly  to  Lord  Palmet  against  that 
woman  "Mistress  Culling,"  as  it  pl-^ased  him  to  term  her, 
and  who  could  be  offended  by  his  calling  her  so  ?  His  fine 
wit  revelled  in  bestowing  titles  that  were  at  once  batteries 
directed  upon  persons  he  hated,  and  entrenchments  for 
himself. 

At  four  o'clock  on  a  sultry  afternoon  he  sat  at  table  with 
his  Bevisham  supporters,  and  pledged  them  correspondingly 
in  English  hotel  champagne,  sherry  and  claret.  At  seven 
he  was  rid  of  them,  but  parched  and  heated,  as  he  deserved 
to  be,  he  owned,  for  drinking  the  poison.  It  would  be  a  good 
subject  for  Parliament  if  he  could  get  it  up,  he  reflected. 

"And  now,"  said  he  to  Palmet,  "we  miight  be  crossing 
over  to  the  Club  if  I  had  n't  to  go  about  that  stupid  busi- 
ness to  Holdesbury  to-morrow  morning.  We  shall  miss  the 
race,  or,  at  least,  the  start." 

The  idea  struck  him  :  "  Ten  to  one  old  Nevil 's  with 
Shrapnel,"   and  no  idea  could  be  more  natural. 

"We  '11  call  on  Shrapnel,"  said  Palmet.  "We  shall  see 
Jenny  Denham.  He  gives  her  out  as  his  niece.  What- 
ever she  is  she  's  a  brimming  little  beauty.  I  assure  you, 
Bask,  you  seldom  see  so  pretty  a  girl." 

Wine,  which  has  directed  men's  footsteps  upon  more 
marvellous  adventures,  took  them  to  a  chemist's  shop  for 
a  cooling  effervescent  draught,  and  thence  through  the 
town  to  the  address,  furnished  to  them  by  the  chemist,  of 
Dr.  Shrapnel  on  the  common. 

Bad  wine,  which  is  responsible  for  the  fate  of  half  the 
dismal  bodies  hanging  from  trees,  weltering  by  rocks, 
grovelling  and  bleaching  round  the  bedabbled  mouth  of 
the  poet's  Cave  of  Despair,  had  rendered  Captain  Baeke- 
lett's  temper  extremely  irascible  ;  so  when  he  caught  sight 
of  Dr.  Shrapnel  walking  in  his  garden,  and  perceived  him 
of  a  giant's  height,  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  writer  of  the 
abominable  letter  with  an  exultation  peculiar  to  men  hav- 
ing a  devil  inside  them  that  kicks  to  be  out.  The  sun  was 
low,  blazing  among  the  thicker  branches  of  the  pollard 
forest  trees,  and  through  sprays  of  hawthorn.  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel stopped,  facing  the  visible  master  of  men,  at  the  end 


THE  BAITING  OF  DR.   SHRAPNEL  283 

of  his  walk  before  he  turned  his  back  to  continue  the 
exercise  and  some  discourse  he  was  holding  aloud  either  to 
the  heavens  or  bands  of  invisible  men. 

"  Ahem,  Dr.  Shrapnel !  "  He  was  accosted  twice,  the 
second  time  imperiously. 

He  saw  two  gentlemen  outside  the  garden-hedge. 

"I  spoke,  sir,"  said  Captain  Baskelett. 

"I  hear  you  now,  sir,''  said  the  doctor,  walking  in  a  par- 
allel line  with  them. 

"I  desired  to  know,  sir,  if  you  are  Dr.  Shrapnel  ?  " 

"lam." 

They  arrived  at  the  garden-gate. 

"You  have  a  charming  garden.  Dr.  Shrapnel,"  said  Lord 
Palmet,  very  affably  and  loudly,  with  a  steady  observation 
of  the  cottage  windows. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  flung  the  gate  open. 

Lord  Palmet  raised  his  hat  and  entered,  crying  loudly, 
"  A  very  charming  garden,  upon  my  word  !  " 

Captain  Baskelett  followed  him,  bowing  stiffly. 

"I  am,"  he  said,  "Captain  Beauchamp's  cousin.  I  am 
Captain  Baskelett,  one  of  the  Members  for  the  borough." 

The  doctor  said,  "Ah." 

"  I  wish  to  see  Captain  Beauchamp,  sir.     He  is  absent  ?  " 

"I  shall  have  him  here  shortly,  sir." 

"  Oh,  you  will  have  him  !  "     Cecil  paused. 

"  Admirable  roses  !  "  exclaimed  Lord  Palmet. 

"You  have  him,  I  think,"  said  Cecil,  "if  what  we  hear 
is  correct.  I  wish  to  know,  sir,  whether  the  case  you  are 
conducting  against  his  uncle  is  one  you  have  communicated 
to  Captain  Beauchamp.  I  repeat,  I  am  here  to  inquire 
if  he  is  privy  to  it.  You  may  hold  family  ties  in  con- 
tempt—  Now,  sir!  I  request  you  abstain  from  provoca- 
tions with  me." 

Dr.  Shrapnel  had  raised  his  head,  with  something  of  the 
rush  of  a  rocket,  from  the  stooping  posture  to  listen,  and 
his  frown  of  non-intelligence  might  be  interpreted  as  the 
coming  on  of  the  fury  Radicals  are  prone  to,  by  a  gentle- 
man who  believed  in  their  constant  disposition  to  explode. 

Cecil  made  play  with  a  pacifying  hand.  "We  shall 
arrive  at  no  understanding  unless  you  are  good  enough  to 
be  perfectly  calm.     I  repeat,   my  cousin  Captain  Beau- 


284  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

champ  is  more  or  less  at  variance  with  his  family,  owing 
to  these  doctrines  of  yours,  and  your  extraordinary  Michael- 
Scott-the-wizard  kind  of  spell  you  seem  to  have  cast  upon 
his  common  sense  as  a  man  of  the  world.  You  have  him, 
as  you  say.  I  do  not  dispute  it.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
have  him  fast.  But  here  is  a  case  demanding  a  certain 
respect  for  decency.  Pray,  if  I  may  ask  you,  be  still,  be 
quiet,  and  hear  me  out  if  you  can.  I  am  accustomed  to 
explain  myself  to  the  comprehension  of  most  men  who 
are  at  large,  and  I  tell  you  candidly  I  am  not  to  be  de- 
ceived or  diverted  from  my  path  by  a  show  of  ignorance." 

"What  is  your  immediate  object,  sir?"  said  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel, chagrined  by  the  mystification  within  him,  and  a  fear 
that  his  patience  was  going. 

"Exactly,"  Cecil  nodded. 

He  was  acute  enough  to  see  that  he  had  established  the 
happy  commencement  of  fretfulness  in  the  victim,  which 
is  equivalent  to  a  hook  well  struck  in  the  mouth  of  your 
fish,  and  with  an  angler's  joy  he  prepared  to  play  his  man. 
"Exactly.  I  have  stated  it.  And  you  ask  me.  But  I 
really  must  decline  to  run  over  the  whole  ground  again  for 
you.  I  am  here  to  fulfil  a  duty  to  my  family;  a  highly 
disagreeable  one  to  me.  I  may  fail,  like  the  lady  who 
came  here  previous  to  the  Election,  for  the  result  of  which 
I  am  assured  I  ought  to  thank  your  eminently  disinterested 
services.     I  do.     You  recollect  a  lady  calling  on  you  ?" 

Dr.  Shrapnel  consulted  his  memory.  "  I  think  I  have  a 
recollection  of  some  lady  calling." 

"  Oh  !  you  think  you  have  a  recollection  of  some  lady 
calling." 

"Do  you  mean  a  lady  connected  with  Captain  Beau- 
champ  ?  " 

"  A  lady  connected  with  Captain  Beauchamp.  You  are 
not  aware  of  the  situation  of  the  lady  ?  " 

"  If  I  remember,  she  was  a  kind  of  confidential  house- 
keeper, some  one  said,  to  Captain  Beauchamp's  uncle." 

"  A  kind  of  confidential  housekeeper  !  She  is  recognized 
in  our  family  as  a  lady,  sir.  I  can  hardly  expect  better 
treatment  at  your  hands  than  she  met  with,  but  I  do  posi- 
tively request  you  to  keep  your  temper  whilst  I  am  ex- 
plaining my  business  to  you.     Now,  sir !  what  now  ?  " 


THE  BAITING  OF   DK.    SHRAPNEL  285 

A  trifling  breeze  will  set  the  tall  tree  bending,  and  Dr. 
Shrapnel  did  indeed  appear  to  display  the  agitation  of  a 
full-driving  storm  when  he  was  but  harassed  and  vexed. 

"  Will  you  mention  your  business  concisely,  if  you 
please  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Precisely  ;  it  is  my  endeavour.  I  supposed  I  had  done 
so.  To  be  frank,  I  would  advise  you  to  summon  a  member 
of  your  household,  wife,  daughter,  housekeeper,  any  one 
you  like,  to  whom  you  may  appeal,  and  I  too,  whenever 
your  recollections  are  at  fault." 

"I  am  competent,"  said  the  doctor. 

"But  in  justice  to  you,"  urged  Cecil  considerately. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  smoothed  his  chin  hastily.  "Have  you 
done  ?  " 

"  Believe  me,  the  instant  I  have  an  answer  to  my  ques- 
tion, I  have  done." 

"Name  your  question." 

"Very  well,  sir.  Now  mark,  I  will  be  plain  with  you. 
There  is  no  escape  for  you  from  this.  You  destroy  my 
cousin's  professional  prospects  —  I  request  you  to  listen  ! 
—  you  blast  his  career  in  the  navy;  it  was  considered 
promising.  He  was  a  gallant  officer  and  a  smart  seaman. 
Very  well.  You  set  him  up  as  a  politician,  to  be  knocked 
down,  to  a  dead  certainty.  You  set  him  against  his  class ; 
you  embroil  him  with  his  family  ..." 

"  On  all  those  points, "  interposed  Dr.  Shrapnel,  after 
dashing  a  hand  to  straighten  his  forelock  ;  but  Cecil  vehe- 
mently entreated  him  to  control  his  temper. 

"I  say  you  embroil  hira  with  his  family,  you  cause  him 
to  be  in  everlasting  altercation  with  his  uncle  Mr.  Eom- 
frey,  materially  to  his  personal  detriment ;  and  the  ques- 
tion of  his  family  is  one  that  every  man  of  sense  would 
apprehend  on  the  spot ;  for  we,  you  should  know,  have,  sir, 
an  opinion  of  Captain  Beauchamp's  talents  and  abilities 
forbidding  us  to  think  he  could  possibly  be  the  total  simple- 
ton you  make  him  appear,  unless  to  the  seductions  of  your 
political  instructions,  other  seductions  were  added.  .  .  . 
You  apprehend  me,  I  am  sure." 

"I  don't,"  cried  the  doctor,  descending  from  his  height 
and  swinging  about  forlornly. 

"Oh!  yes,  you  do  j  you  do  indeed,  you  cannot  avoid  it; 


286  BEAUCH amp's  career 

you  quite  apprehend  me  ;  it  is  admitted  that  you  take  my 
meaning  :  I  insist  on  that.  I  have  nothing  to  say  but  what 
is  complimentary  of  the  young  lady,  whoever  she  may  turn 
out  to  be  ;  bewitching,  no  doubt ;  and  to  speak  frankly, 
Dr.  Shrapnel,  I,  and  I  am  pretty  certain  every  honest  man 
would  think  with  me,  I  take  it  to  be  ten  times  more  cred- 
itable to  my  cousin  Captain  Beauchamp  that  he  should  be 
under  a  lady's  influence  than  under  yours.  Come,  sir  !  I 
ask  you.  You  must  confess  that  a  gallant  officer  and  great 
admirer  of  the  sex  does  not  look  such  a  donkey  if  he  is  led 
in  silken  strings  by  a  beautiful  creature.  And  mark  — 
stop  !  mark  this.  Dr.  Shrapnel :  I  say,  to  the  lady  we  can 
all  excuse  a  good  deal,  and  at  the  same  time  you  are  to 
be  congratulated  on  first-rate  diplomacy  in  employing  so 
charming  an  agent.  I  wish,  I  really  wish  you  did  it  gen- 
erally, I  assure  you  :  only,  mark  this  —  I  do  beg  you  to 
contain  yourself  for  a  minute,  if  possible  —  I  say,  my 
cousin  Captain  Beauchamp  is  fair  game  to  hunt,  and 
there  is  no  law  to  prevent  the  chase,  only  you  must  not 
expect  us  to  be  quiet  spectators  of  your  sport ;  and  we  have, 
I  say,  undoubtedly  a  right  to  lay  the  case  before  the  lady, 
and  induce  her  to  be  a  peace-agent  in  the  family  if  we  can. 
Very  well." 

"This  garden  is  redolent  of  a  lady's  hand,"  sighed 
Palmet,  poetical  in  his  dejection. 

"  Have  you  taken  too  much  wine,  gentlemen  ?  "  said  Dr. 
Shrapnel. 

Cecil  put  this  impertinence  aside  with  a  graceful  sweep 
of  his  fingers.     "You  attempt  to  elude  me,  sir." 

"Not  I!     You  mention  some  lady." 

"Exactly.     A  young  lady." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  the  lady  ?  " 

"  Oh !  You  ask  the  name  of  the  lady.  And  I  too. 
What  is  it?     I  have  heard  two  or  three  names." 

"Then  you  have  heard  villanies." 

"Denham,  Jenny  Denham,  Miss  Jenny  Denham,"  said 
Palmet,  rejoiced  at  the  opportunity  of  trumpeting  her  name 
so  that  she  should  not  fail  to  hear  it. 

"I  stake  my  reputation  I  have  heard  her  called  Shrapnel 
—  Miss  Shrapnel,"  said  Cecil. 

The  doctor  glanced  hastily  from  one  to  the  other  of  his 


THE   BAITING   OF   DR.    SHRAPNEL  287 

visitors.  "The  young  lady  is  my  ward;  I  am  her  guar- 
dian," he  said. 

Cecil  pursed  his  mouth.  "  I  have  heard  her  called  your 
uiece." 

"Niece  — ward  ;  she  is  a  lady  by  birth  and  education, 
in  manners,  accomplishments,  and  character;  and  she  is 
under  my  protection,"  cried  Dr.  Shrapnel. 

Cecil  bowed.  "  So  you  are  for  gentle  birth  ?  I  forgot : 
you  are  for  morality  too,  and  for  praying  ;  exactly  ;  I 
recollect.  But  now  let  me  tell  you,  entirely  with  the  object 
of  conciliation,  piy  particular  desire  is  to  see  the  young 
lady,  in  your  presence  of  course,  and  endeavour  to  per- 
suade her,  as  I  have  very  little  doubt  I  shall  do,  assuming 
that  you  give  me  fair  play,  to  exercise  her  influence,  on 
this  occasion  contrary  to  yours,  and  save  my  cousin  Cap- 
tain Beauchamp  from  a  fresh  misunderstanding  with  his 
uncle  Mr.  E,omfrey.     Now,  sir  ;  now,  there  !  " 

"You  will  not  see  Miss  Denham  with  my  sanction  ever," 
said  Dr.  Shrapnel." 

"Oh!  Then  I  perceive  your  policy.  Mark,  sir,  my 
assumption  was  that  the  young  lady  would,  on  hearing  my 
representations,  exert  herself  to  heal  the  breach  between 
Captain  Beauchamp  and  his  family.  You  stand  in  the  way. 
You  treat  me  as  you  treated  the  lady  who  came  here  for- 
merly to  wrest  your  dupe  from  your  clutches.  If  I  mistake 
not,  she  saw  the  young  lady  you  acknowledge  to  be  your 
ward." 

Dr.  Shrapnel  flashed  back :  "  I  acknowledge  ?  Mercy 
and  justice  !  is  there  no  peace  with  the  man  ?  You  walk 
here  to  me,  I  can't  yet  guess  why,  from  a  town  where  I 
have  enemies,  and  every  scandal  flies  touching  me  and 
I  mine ;  and  you  —  "  He  stopped  short  to  master  his  anger. 
He  subdued  it  so  far  as  to  cloak  it  in  an  attempt  to  speak 
reasoningly;  as  angry  men  sometimes  deceive  themselves 
in  doing,  despite  the  good  maxim  for  the  wrathful  —  speak 
not  at  all.  "See,"  said  he,  "I  was  never  married.  My 
dear  friend  dies,  and  leaves  me  his  child  to  protect  and 
rear;  and  though  she  bears  her  father's  name,  she  is  most 
wrongly  and  foully  made  to  share  the  blows  levelled  at  her 
guardian.  Ay,  have  at  me,  all  of  you,  as  much  as  you  will! 
Hold  off  from  her.     Were  it  true,  the  cowardice  would  be 


288  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

not  a  whit  the  smaller.  Why,  casting  a  stone  like  that, 
were  it  the  size  of  a  pebble  and  the  weight  of  a  glance,  is 
to  toss  the  whole  cowardly  world  on  an  innocent  young 
girl.  And  why  suspect  evil  ?  You  talk  of  that  lady  who 
paid  me  a  visit  here  once,  and  whom  I  treated  becomingly, 
I  swear.  I  never  do  otherwise.  She  was  a  handsome 
woman ;  and  what  was  she  ?  The  housekeeper  of  Captain 
Beauchamp's  uncle.  Hear  me,  if  you  please  !  To  go  with 
the  world,  I  have  as  good  a  right  to  suppose  the  worst  of 
an  attractive  lady  in  that  situation  as  you  regarding  my 
ward  :  better  warrant  for  scandalizing,  I  think  ;  —  to  go 
with  the  world.     But  now  —  " 

Cecil  checked  him,  ejaculating,  "  Thank  you.  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel; I  thank  you  most  cordially,"  with  a  shining  smile. 
"  Stay,  sir !  no  more.  I  take  my  leave  of  you.  Not 
another  word.  No  '  buts  ' !  I  recognize  that  conciliation  is 
out  of  the  question:  you  are  the  natural  protector  of 
poachers,  and  you  will  not  grant  me  an  interview  with  the 
young  lady  you  call  your  ward,  that  I  may  represent  to 
her,  as  a  person  we  presume  to  have  a  chance  of  moving 
you,  how  easily  —  I  am  determined  you  shall  hear  me,  Dr. 
Shrapnel !  —  how  easily  the  position  of  Captain  Beauchamp 
may  become  precarious  with  his  uncle  Mr.  Romfrey.  And 
let  me  add  —  ^  but '  and  *  but '  me  till  Doomsday,  sir  !  —  if 
you  were  —  I  do  hear  you,  sir,  and  you  shall  hear  me  —  if 
you  were  a  younger  man,  I  say,  I  would  hold  you  answer- 
able to  me  for  your  scandalous  and  disgraceful  insinua- 
tions." 

Dr.  Shrapnel  was  adroitly  fenced  and  over-shouted. 
He  shrugged,  stuttered,  swayed,  wagged  a  bulrush-head, 
flapped  his  elbows,  puffed  like  a  swimmer  in  the  breakers, 
tried  many  times  to  expostulate,  and  finding  the  effort 
useless,  for  his  adversary  was  copious  and  commanding, 
relapsed,  eyeing  him  as  an  object  far  removed. 

Cecil  rounded  one  of  his  perplexingly  empty  sentences 
and  turned  on  his  heel. 

"War,  then!"  he  said. 

"  As  you  like, "  retorted  the  doctor. 

"Oh!  Very  good.  Good  evening."  Cecil  slightly 
lifted  his  hat,  with  the  short  projection  of  the  head  of  the 
stately  peacock  in  its  walk,  and  passed  out  of  the  garden. 


THE  BAITING   OF  DR.    SHRAPNEL  289 

Lord  Palmet,  deeply  disappointed  and  mystified,  went 
after  him,  leaving  Dr.  Shrapnel  to  shorten  his  garden  walk 
with  enormous  long  strides. 

"I  'm  afraid  j^ou  didn't  manage  the  old  boy,"  Palmet 
complained.  "  They  're  people  who  have  tea  in  their  gar- 
dens ;  we  might  have  sat  down  with  them  and  talked,  the 
best  friends  in  the  world,  and  come  again  to-morrow: 
might  liave  called  her  Jenny  in  a  week.  She  did  n't  show 
her  pretty  nose  at  any  of  the  windows." 

His  companion  pooh-poohed  and  said  :  "  Foh  !  I  'm 
afraid  I  permitted  myself  to  lose  my  self-command  for  a 
moment." 

Palmet  sang  out  an  amorous  couplet  to  console  himself. 
Captain  Baskelett  respected  the  poetic  art  for  its  magical 
power  over  woman's  virtue,  but  he  disliked  hearing  verses, 
and  they  were  ill-suited  to  Palmet.  He  abused  his  friend 
roundly,  telling  him  it  was  contemptible  to  be  quoting 
verses.     He  was  irritable  still. 

He  declared  himself  nevertheless  much  refreshed  by  his 
visit  to  Dr.  Shrapnel.  "  We  shall  have  to  sleep  to-night 
in  this  unhallowed  town,  but  I  needn't  be  off  to  Holdesbury 
in  the  morning  ;  I  've  done  my  business.  I  shall  write  to 
the  baron  to-night,  and  we  can  cross  the  water  to-morrow 
in  time  for  operations." 

The  letter  to  Mr.  Romfrey  was  composed  before  mid- 
night. It  was  a  long  one,  and  when  he  had  finished  it, 
Cecil  remembered  that  the  act  of  composition  had  been 
assisted  by  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  and  Mr.  Romfrey  de- 
tested the  smell  of  tobacco.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  write  the  letter  over  again,  somewhat  more  briefly: 
it  ran  thus:  — 

"  Thinking  to  kill  two  birds  at  a  blow,  I  went  yesterday 
with  Palmet  after  the  dinner  at  this  place  to  Shrapnel's 
house,  where,  as  I  heard,  I  stood  a  chance  of  catching 
friend  Nevil.  The  young  person  living  under  the  man's 
protection  was  absent,  and  so  was  the  '  poor  dear  com- 
mander, '  perhaps  attending  on  his  bull.  Shrapnel  said  he 
was  expecting  him.  I  write  to  you  to  confess  I  thought 
myself  a  cleverer  fellow  than  I  am.  I  talked  to  Shrapnel 
and  tried  hard  to  reason  with  him.  I  hope  I  can  keep  my 
temper  under  ordinary  circumstances.      You  will  under- 

19 


290  BE AFCH amp's   CABEER 

• 

stand  that  it  required  remarkable  restraint  when  I  make 
you  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  a  lady's  name  was  in- 
troduced, which,  as  your  representative  in  relation  to  her, 
I  was  bound  to  defend  from  a  gratuitous  and  scoundrelly 
aspersion.  Shrapnel's  epistle  to  '  brave  Beauchamp '  is 
Church  hymniiication  in  comparison  with  his  conversa- 
tion. He  is  indubitably  one  of  the  greatest  ruffians  of  his 
time. 

"  I  took  the  step  with  the  best  of  intentions ,  and  all  I 
can  plead  is  that  I  am  not  a  diplomatist  of  sixty.  His  last 
word  was  that  he  is  for  war  with  us.  As  far  as  we  men 
are  concerned  it  is  of  small  importance.  I  should  think 
that  the  sort  of  society  he  would  scandalize  a  lady  in  is 
not  much  to  be  feared.  I  have  given  him  his  warning. 
He  tops  me  by  about  a  head,  and  loses  his  temper  every 
two  minutes.  I  could  have  drawn  him  out  deliciously  if 
he  had  not  rather  disturbed  mine.  By  this  time  my 
equanimity  is  restored.  The  only  thing  I  apprehend  is 
your  displeasure  with  me  for  having  gone  to  the  man.  I 
have  done  no  good,  and  it  prevents  me  from  running  over 
to  Holdesbury  to  see  Nevil,  for  if  '  shindy  letters,'  as  you 
call  them,  are  bad,  shindy  meetings  are  worse.  I  should 
be  telling  him  my  opinion  of  Shrapnel,  he  would  be  firing 
out,  I  should  retort,  he  would  yell,  I  should  snap  my  fin- 
gers, and  he  would  go  into  convulsions.  I  a,m  convinced 
that  a  cattle-breeder  ought  to  keep  himself  particularly 
calm.  So  unless  I  have  further  orders  from  you  I  refrain 
from  going. 

"  The  dinner  was  enthusiastic.  I  sat  three  hours  among 
my  Commons,  they  on  me  for  that  length  of  time  — 
fatiguing,  but  a  duty.'' 

Cecil  subscribed  his  name  with  the  warmest  affection 
toward  his  uncle. 

The  brevity  of  the  second  letter  had  not  brought  him 
nearer  to  the  truth  in  rescinding  the  picturesque  acces- 
sories of  his  altercation  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  but  it  vera- 
ciously  expressed  the  sentiments  he  felt,  and  that  was  the 
palpable  truth  for  him. 

He  posted  the  letter  next  morning. 


SHOWING  A  CHIVALROUS   GENTLEMAN  291 

CHAPTER   XXXI 

SHOWING   A    CHIVALROUS    GENTLEMAN    SET    IN    MOTION 

About  noon  the  day  following,  on  board  the  steam-yacht 
of  the  Countess  of  Menai,  Cecil  was  very  much  astonished 
to  see  Mr.  E-omfrey  descending  into  a  boat  hard  by,  from 
Grancey  LespePs  hired  cutter.  Steam  was  up,  and  the 
countess  was  off  for  a  cruise  in  the  Channel,  as  it  was  not 
a  race-day,  but  seeing  Mr.  Romfrey's  hand  raised,  she 
spoke  to  Cecil,  and  immediately  gave  orders  to  wait  for  the 
boat.  This  lady  was  a  fervent  admirer  of  the  knightly 
gentleman,  and  had  reason  to  like  him,  for  he  had  once 
been  her  champion.  Mr.  Rorafrey  mounted  the  steps, 
received  her  greeting,  and  beckoned  to  Cecil.  He  carried  a 
gold-headed  horsewhip  under  his  arm.  Lady  Menai  would 
gladly  have  persuaded  him  to  be  one  of  her  company  for  the 
day's  voyage,  but  he  said  he  had  business  in  Bevisham, 
and  moving  aside  with  Cecil,  put  the  question  to  him 
abruptly :  "  What  were  the  words  used  by  Shrapnel  ?  " 

"The  identical  words?"  Captain  Baskelett  asked.  He 
could  have  tripped  out  the  words  with  the  fluency  of 
ancient  historians  relating  what  great  kings,  ambassadors, 
or  generals  may  well  have  uttered  on  State  occasions,  but 
if  you  want  the  identical  words,  who  is  to  remember  them 
the  day  after  they  have  been  delivered  ?  He  said:  "  Well, 
as  for  the  identical  words,  I  really,  and  I  was  tolerably 
excited,  sir,  and  upon  my  honour,  the  identical  words  are 
rather  difficult  to  .  .  ."  He  glanced  at  the  horsewhip, 
and  pricked  by  the  sight  of  it  to  proceed,  thought  it  good 
to  soften  the  matter  if  possible.  "  I  don't  quite  recollect 
...  I  wrote  off  to  you  rather  hastily.  I  think  he  said  — 
but  Palmet  was  there." 

"  Shrapnel  spoke  the  words  before  Lord  Palmet  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Romfrey  austerely. 

Captain  Baskelett  summoned  Palmet  to  come  near,  and 
inquired  of  him  what  he  had  heard  Shrapnel  say,  suggest- 
ing: ''He  spoke  of  a  handsome  woman  for  a  housekeeper, 
and  all  the  world  knew  her  character  ?  " 

Mr.  Romfrey  cleared  his  throat. 


292  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"  Or  knew  she  had  no  character, "  Cecil  pursued  in  a  fit 
of  gratified  spleen,  in  scorn  of  the  woman.  "Don't  you 
recollect  his  accent  in  pronouncing  housekeeper  ?  " 

The  menacing  thunder  sounded  from  Mr.  Romfrey.  He 
was  patient  in  appearance,  and  waited  for  Cecil's  witness 
tp  corroborate  the  evidence. 

It  happened  (and  here  we  are  in  one  of  the  circles  of 
small  things  producing  great  consequences,  which  have 
inspired  diminutive  philosophers  with  ironical  visions  of 
history  and  the  littleness  of  man),  it  happened  that  Lord 
Palmet,  the  humanest  of  young  aristocrats,  well-disposed 
toward  the  entire  world,  especially  to  women,  also  to  men 
in  any  way  related  to  pretty  women,  had  just  lit  a  cigar, 
and  it  was  a  cigar  that  he  had  been  recommended  to  try 
the  flavour  of;  and  though  he,  having  his  wits  about  him, 
was  fully  aware  that  shipboard  is  no  good  place  for  a  trial 
of  the  delicacy  of  tobacco  in  the  leaf,  he  had  begun  puffing 
and  sniffing  in  a  critical  spirit,  and  scarcely  knew  for  the 
moment  what  to  decide  as  to  this  particular  cigar.  He 
remembered,  however,  Mr.  Eomfrey's  objection  to  tobacco. 
Imagining  that  he  saw  the  expression  of  a  profound  dis- 
taste in  that  gentleman's  more  than  usually  serious  face, 
he  hesitated  between  casting  the  cigar  into  the  water  and 
retaining  it.  He  decided  upon  the  latter  course,  and 
held  the  cigar  behind  his  back,  bowing  to  Mr.  Eomfrey 
at  about  a  couple  of  yards  distance,  and  saying  to  Cecil : 
"Housekeeper;  yes,  I  remember  hearing  housekeeper.  I 
think  so.     Housekeeper  ?  yes,  oh  yes." 

"And  handsome  housekeepers  were  doubtful  characters," 
Captain  Baskelett  prompted  him. 

Palmet  laughed  out  a  single  "  Ha !  "  that  seemed  to 
excuse  him  for  lounging  away  to  the  forepart  of  the 
vessel,  where  he  tugged  at  his  fine  specimen  of  a  cigar 
to  rekindle  it,  and  discharged  it  with  a  wry  grimace, 
so  delicate  is  the  flavour  of  that  weed,  and  so  adversely 
ever  is  it  affected  by  a  breeze  and  a  moist  atmosphere. 
He  could  then  return  undivided  in  his  mind  to  Mr.  Rom- 
frey and  Cecil,  but  the  subject  was  not  resumed  in  his 
presence. 

The  Countess  of  Menai  steamed  into  Bevisham  to  land 
Mr.  Romfrey  there.     "I  can  be  out  in  the  Channel  any 


SHOWING  A   CHIVALROUS   GENTLEMAN  293 

y 
day;  it  is  not  every  day  that  I  see  you,"  she  said,  in  siip- 

poj^t  of  her  proposal  to  take  him  over. 

They  sat  together  conversing,  apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
company,  until  they  sighted  Bevisham,  when  Mr.  Romfiey 
stood  up,  and  a  little  crowd  of  men  came  round  him  to 
enjoy  his  famous  racy  talk.  Captain  Baskelett  tffered  to 
land  with  him.  He  declined  companionship.  Dropping 
her  hand  in  his,  the  countess  asked  him  what  he  had  to 
do  in  that  town,  and  he  replied,  "  I  have  to  demand  an 
apology." 

Answering  the  direct  look  of  his  eyes,  she  said,  "  Oh,  I 
shall  not  speak  of  it." 

In  his  younger  days,  if  the  rumour  was  correct,  he  had 
done  the  same  on  her  account. 

He  stepped  into  the  boat,  and  presently  they  saw  him 
mount  the  pier-steps,  with  the  riding-whip  under  his  arm, 
his  head  more  than  commonly  bent,  a  noticeable  point  in  a 
man  of  his  tall  erect  figure.  The  ladies  and  some  of  the 
gentlemen  thought  he  was  looking  particularly  grave,  even 
sorrowful. 

Lady  Menai  inquired  of  Captain  Baskelett  whether  he 
knew  the  nature  of  his  uncle's  business  in  Bevisham,  the 
town  he  despised. 

What  could  Cecil  say  but  no  ?  His  uncle  had  not  im- 
parted it  to  him. 

She  was  flattered  in  being  the  sole  confidante,  and  said 
no  more. 

The  sprightly  ingenuity  of  Captain  Baskelett's  mind 
would  have  informed  him  of  the  nature  of  his  uncle's  ex- 
pedition, we  may  be  sure,  had  he  put  it*  to  the  trial ;  for 
Mr.  Romfrey  was  as  plain  to  read  as  a  rudimentary  sum  in 
arithmetic,  and  like  the  tracings  of  a  pedigree-map  his 
preliminary  steps  to  deeds  wfere  seen  pointing  on  their 
issue  in  lines  of  straight  descent.  But  Cecil  could  protest 
that  he  was  not  bound  to  know,  and  considering  that  he 
was  neither  bound  to  know  nor  to  speculate,  he  determined 
to  stand  on  his  right.  So  effectually  did  he  accomplish 
the  task,  that  he  was  frequently  surprised  during  the 
evening  and  the  night  by  the  effervescence  of  a  secret 
exultation  rising  imp-like  within  him,  that  was,  he  assured 
himself,  perfectly  unaccountable. 


294  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

AN   EFFORT   TO    CONQUER  CECILIA  IN  BEAUCHAMP's  FASHIOK 

The  day  after  Mr.  Romfrey's  landing  in  Bevisham  a 
full  South-wester  stretched  the  canvas  of  yachts  of  all 
classes,  schooner,  cutter  and  yawl,  on  the  lively  green 
water  between  the  island  and  the  forest  shore.  Cecilia's 
noble  schooner  was  sure  to  be  out  in  such  a  ringing  breeze, 
for  the  pride  of  it  as  well  as  the  pleasure.  She  landed 
her  father  at  the  Club  steps,  and  then  bore  away  Eastward 
to  sight  a  cutter  race,  the  breeze  beginning  to  stiffen. 
Looking  back  against  sun  and  wind,  she  saw  herself  pur- 
sued by  a  saucy  little  15-ton  craft  that  had  been  in  her 
track  since  she  left  the  Otley  river  before  noon,  dipping 
and  straining,  with  every  inch  of  sail  set ;  as  mad  a  stern 
chase  as  ever  was  witnessed  :  and  who  could  the  man  at 
the  tiller,  clad  cap-a-pie  in  tarpaulin,  be  ?  She  led  him 
dancing  away,  to  prove  his  resoluteness  and  laugh  at  him. 
She  had  the  powerful  wings,  and  a  glory  in  them  coming 
of  this  pursuit :  her  triumph  was  delicious,  until  the  occa- 
sional sparkle  of  the  tarpaulin  was  lost,  the  small  boat  ap- 
peared a  motionless  object  far  behind,  and  all  ahead  of 
her  exceedingly  dull,  though  the  race  hung  there  and  the 
crowd  of  sail. 

Cecilia's  transient  flutter  of  coquetry  created  by  the 
animating  air  and  her  queenly  flight  was  over.  She  fled 
splendidly  and  she  came  back  graciously.  But  he  refused 
her  open  hand,  as  it  were.  He  made  as  if  to  stand  across 
her  tack,  and,  reconsidering  it,  evidently  scorned  his 
advantage  and  challenged  the  stately  vessel  for  a  beat  up 
against  the  wind.  It  was  as  pretty  as  a  Court  minuet. 
But  presently  Cecilia  stood  too  far  on  one  tack,  and  re- 
turning to  the  centre  of  the  channel,  found  herself  headed 
by  seamanship.  He  waved  an  ironical  salute  with  his 
sou'wester.  Her  retort  consisted  in  bringing  her  vessel  to 
the  wind,  and  sending  a  boat  for  him. 

She  did  it  on  the  impulse;  had  she  consulted  her  wishes 
she  would  rather  have   seen   him  at  his  post,  where  he 


AN  EFFORT  TO  CONQUER  CECILIA  295 

seemed  in  his  element,  facing  the  spray  and  cunningly- 
calculating  to  get  wind  and  tide  in  his  favour.  Partly 
with  regret  she  saw  him,  stripped  of  his  tarpaulin,  jump 
into  her  boat,  as  though  she  had  once  more  to  say  farewell 
to  sailor  Nevil  Beauchamp ;  farewell  the  bright  youth,  the 
hero,  the  true  servant  of  his  country ! 

That  feeling  of  hers  changed  when  he  was  on  board. 
The  stirring  cordial  day  had  put  new  breath  in  him. 

"  Should  not  the  flag  be  dipped  ? "  he  said ,  looking  up 
at  the  peak,  where  the  white  flag  streamed. 

"  Can  you  really  mistake  compassion  for  defeat  ?  "  said 
she,  with  a  smile. 

"Oh!  before  the  wind  of  course  I  had  n^t  a  chance." 

"  How  could  you  be  so  presumptuous  as  to  give  chase  ? 
And  who  has  lent  you  that  little  cutter  ?  " 

Beauchamp  had  hired  her  for  a  month,  and  he  praised 
her  sailing,  and  pretended  to  say  that  the  race  was  not 
always  to  the  strong  in  a  stiff  breeze. 

"But  in  point  of  fact  I  was  bent  on  trying  how  my  boat 
swims,  and  had  no  idea  of  overhauling  you.  To-day  our 
salt-water  lake  is  as  fine  as  the  Mediterranean." 

"Omitting  the  islands  and  the  Mediterranean  colour,  it 
is.  I  have  often  told  you  how  I  love  it.  I  have  landed 
papa  at  the  Club.  Are  you  aware  that  we  meet  you  at 
Steynham  the  day  after  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Well,  we  can  ride  on  the  downs.  The  downs  between 
three  and  four  of  a  summer's  morning  are  as  lovely  as 
anything  in  the  world.  They  have  the  softest  outlines 
imaginable  .  .  .  and  remind  me  of  a  friend's  upper  lip 
when  she  deigns  to  smile." 

"  Is  one  to  rise  at  that  hour  to  behold  the  effect  ?  And 
let  me  remind  you  further,  Nevil,  that  the  comparison  of 
nature's  minor  work  beside  her  mighty  is  an  error,  if  you 
will  be  poetical." 

She  cited  a  well-known  instance  of  degradation  in  verse. 

But  a  young  man  who  happens  to  be  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  a  certain  "  dark  eye  in  woman  "  will  not  so 
lightly  be  brought  to  consider  that  the  comparison  of  tem- 
pestuous night  to  the  flashing  of  those  eyes  of  hers  topples 
the  scene  headlong  from  grandeur.  And  if  Beauchamp 
remembered  rightly,  the  scene  was  the  Alps  at  night. 


296 

He  was  prepared  to  contest  Cecilia's  jadgement.  At 
that  moment  the  breeze  freshened  and  the  canvas  lifted: 
from  due  South  the  yacht  swung  her  sails  to  drive  toward 
the  West,  and  Cecilia's  face  and  hair  came  out  golden  in 
the  sunlight.  Speech  was  difficult,  admiration  natural, 
so  he  sat  beside  her,  admiring  in  silence. 

She  said  a  good  word  for  the  smartness  of  his  little  yacht. 

"This  is  my  first  trial  of  her,"  said  Beauchamp.  "I 
hired  her  chiefly  to  give  Dr.  Shrapnel  a  taste  of  salt  air. 
I  've  no  real  right  to  be  idling  about.  His  ward  Miss 
Denham  is  travelling  in  Switzerland;  the  dear  old  man  is 
alone,  and  not  quite  so  well  as  I  should  wish.  Change  of 
scene  will  do  him  good.  I  shall  land  him  on  the  French 
coast  for  a  couple  of  days,  or  take  him  down  Channel." 

Cecilia  gazed  abstractedly  at  a  passing  schooner. 

"  He  works  too  hard ,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"Who  does?" 

"Dr.  Shrapnel." 

Some  one  else  whom  we  have  heard  of  works  too  hard, 
and  it  would  be  happy  for  mankind  if  he  did  not. 

Cecilia  named  the  schooner;  an  American  that  had 
beaten  our  crack  yachts.  Beauchamp  sprang  up  to  spy 
at  the  American. 

"That 's  the  Corinne,  is  she! " 

Yankee  craftiness  on  salt  water  always  excited  his  re- 
spectful attention  as  a  spectator. 

"  And  what  is  the  name  of  your  boat,  Nevil  ?  " 

"  The  fool  of  an  owner  calls  her  the  Petrel,  It 's  not 
that  I  'm  superstitious,  but  to  give  a  boat  a  name  of  bad 
augury  to  sailors  appears  to  me  .  .  .  however,  I  've  argued 
it  with  him,  and  I  will  have  her  called  the  Curlew.  Carry- 
ing Dr.  Shrapnel  and  me.  Petrel  would  be  thought  the 
proper  title  for  her  —  isn't  that  your  idea?" 

He  laughed  and  she  smiled,  and  then  he  became  over- 
cast with  his  political  face,  and  said  :  "  I  hope  —  I  believe 
—  you  will  alter  your  opinion  of  him.  Can  it  be  an 
opinion  when  it 's  founded  on  nothing  ?  You  know  really 
nothing  of  him.  I  have  in  my  pocket  what  I  believe 
would  alter  your  mind  about  him  entirely.  I  do  think  so; 
and  I  think  so  because  I  feel  you  would  appreciate  his 
deep  sincerity  and  real  nobleness." 


AN  EFFORT  TO  CONQUER  CECILIA  297 

**Is  it  a  talisman  that  you  have,  Nevil  ?  " 

"No,  it's  a  letter." 

Cecilia's  cheeks  took  fire. 

"I  should  so  much  like  to  read  it  to  you,"  said  he. 

"Do  not,  please,"  she  replied  with  a  dash  of  supplication 
in  her  voice. 

"  Not  the  whole  of  it  —  an  extract  here  and  there  ?  I 
want  you  so  much  to  understand  him. " 

"I  am  sure  I  should  not." 

"  Let  me  try  you  !  " 

"Pray  do  not." 

"  Merely  to  show  you  ..." 

"But,  Nevil,  I  do  not  wish  to  understand  him." 

"But  you  have  only  to  listen  for  a  few  minutes,  and  I 
want  you  to  know  what  good  reason  I  have  to  reverence 
him  as  a  teacher  and  a  friend." 

Cecilia  looked  at  Beauchamp  with  wonder.  A  confused 
recollection  of  the  contents  of  the  letter  declaimed  at 
Mount  Laurels  in  Captain  Baskelett's  absurd  sing-song, 
surged  up  in  her  mind  revoltingly.  She  signifi^ed  a  decided 
negative.  Something  of  a  shudder  accomj)anied  the  ex- 
pression of  it. 

But  he  as  little  as  any  member  of  the  Romfrey  blood 
was  framed  to  let  the  word  no  stand  quietly  opposed  to 
him.  And  the  no  that  a  woman  utters!  It  calls  for 
wholesome  tyranny.  Those  old,  those  hoar-old  duellists. 
Yes  and  No,  have  rarely  been  better  matched  than  in 
Beauchamp  and  Cecilia.  For  if  he  was  obstinate  in  attack 
she  had  great  resisting  power.  Twice  to  listen  to  that 
letter  was  beyond  her  endurance.  Indeed  it  cast  a  shadow 
on  him  and  disfigured  him;  and  when,  affecting  to  plead, 
he  said  :  "  You  must  listen  to  it  to  please  me,  for  my  sake, 
Cecilia,"  she  answered,  "It  is  for  your  sake,  Nevil,  I 
decline  to." 

"  Why,  what,  do  you  know  of  it  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  know  the  kind  of  writing  it  would  be." 

"  How  do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  of  some  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  opinions." 

"  You  imagine  him  to  be  subversive,  intolerant,  immoral, 
and  the  rest !  all  that  comes  under  your  word  revolu- 
tionary." 


298  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"  Possibly  ;  but  I  must  defend  myself  from  bearing  wbat 
I  know  will  be  certain  to  annoy  me." 

"  But  be  is  tbe  reverse  of  immoral :  and  I  intend  to  read 
you  parts  of  tbe  letter  to  prove  to  you  tbat  be  is  not  tbe 
man  you  would  blame,  but  I,  and  tbat  if  ever  I  am  worthier 
.  .  .  wortbier  of  you,  as  I  bope  to  become,  it  will  be  owing 
to  tbis  admirable  and  good  old  man." 

Cecilia  trembled:  sbe  was  toucbed  to  tbe  quick.  Yet  it 
was  not  pleasant  to  ber  to  be  wooed  obliquely,  througb 
Dr.  Sbrapnel. 

Sbe  recognized  tbe  very  letter,  crowned  witb  many 
stamps,  tbick  witb  many  pages,  in  Beaucbamp's  bands. 

"  Wben  you  are  at  Steynbam  you  will  probably  bear  my 
uncle  Everard's  version  of  tbis  letter,"  be  said.  "Tbe 
baron  cbooses  to  tbink  everything  fair  in  war,  and  tbe 
letter  came  accidentally  into  bis  bands  witb  tbe  seal 
broken ;  well,  be  read  it.  And,  Cecilia,  you  can  fancy  tbe 
sort  of  stuff  be  would  make  of  it.  Apart  from  tbat,  I  want 
you  particularly  to  know  bow  mucb  I  am  indebted  to  Dr. 
Sbrapnel.  Won't  you  learn  to  like  bim  a  little  ?  Won't 
you  tolerate  bim?  —  I  could  almost  say,  for  my  sake !  He 
and  I  are  at  variance  on  certain  points,  but  taking  bim 
altogether,  I  am  under  deeper  obligations  to  bim  than 
to  any  man  on  eartb.  He  bas  found  wbere  I  bend  and 
waver." 

"I  recognize  your  chivalry,  Nevil." 

"  He  bas  done  his  best  to  train  me  to  be  of  some  service. 
Where  's  the  chivalry  in  owning  a  debt  ?  He  is  one  of 
our  true  warriors  ;  fearless  and  blameless.  I  have  had  my 
heroes  before.  You  know  how  I  loved  Robert  Hall  :  his 
death  is  a  gap  in  my  life.  He  is  a  light  for  fighting  Eng- 
lishmen —  who  fight  with  tbe  sword.  But  the  scale  of  the 
war,  the  cause,  and  the  end  in  view,  raise  Dr.  Shrapnel 
above  the  bravest  I  have  ever  had  the  luck  to  meet.  Sol- 
diers and  sailors  have  their  excitement  to  keep  them  up  to 
the  mark;  praise  and  rewards.  He  is  in  bis  eight-and- 
sixtieth  year,  and  he  bas  never  received  anything  but  oblo- 
quy for  his  pains.  Half  of  the  small  fortune  he  has  goes 
in  charities  and  subscriptions.  Will  that  touch  you? 
But  I  think  little  of  that,  and  so  does  he.  Charity  is  a 
common  duty.     Tbe  dedication  of  a  man's  life  and  whole 


AN  EFFOUT  TO   COKQUER   CECILIA  299 

mind  to  a  cause,  there  's  heroism.  I  wish  I  were  eloquent; 
I  wish  I  could  move  you." 

Cecilia  turned  her  face  to  him.  "  I  listen  to  you  with 
pleasure,  Nevil ;  but  please  do  not  read  the  letter." 

"  Yes  ;  a  paragraph  or  two  I  must  read." 

She  rose. 

He  was  promptly  by  her  side.  "  If  I  say  I  ask  you  for 
one  sign  that  you  care  for  me  in  some  degree  ?  " 

"I  have  not  for  a  moment  ceased  to  be  your  friend, 
Nevil,  since  I  was  a  child." 

"  But  if  you  allow  yourself  to  be  so  prejudiced  against 
my  best  friend  that  you  will  not  hear  a  word  of  his  writing, 
are  you  friendly  ?  " 

"Feminine,  and  obstinate,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  Give  me  your  eyes  an  instant.  I  know  you  think  me 
reckless  and  lawless  :  now  is  not  that  true  ?  You  doubt 
whether,  if  a  lady  gave  me  her  hand  I  should  hold  to  it  in 
perfect  faith.  Or,  perhaps  not  that :  but  you  do  suspect  I 
should  be  capable  of  every  sophism  under  the  sun  to  per- 
suade a  woman  to  break  her  faith,  if  it  suited  me  :  sup- 
posing some  passion  to  be  at  work.  Men  who  are  open  to 
passion  have  to  be  taught  reflection  before  they  distinguish 
between  the  woman  they  should  sue  for  love  because  she 
would  be  their  best  mate,  and  the  woman  who  has  thrown 
a  spell  on  them.  Now,  what  I  beg  you  to  let  me  read 
you  in  this  letter  is  a  truth  nobly  stated  that  has  gone  into 
my  blood,  and  changed  me.  It  cannot  fail,  too,  in  chang- 
ing your  opinion  of  Dr.  Shrapnel.  It  makes  me  wretched 
that  you  should  be  divided  from  me  in  your  ideas  of  him. 
I,  you  see  —  and  I  confess  I  think  it  my  chief  title  to 
honour  —  reverence  him." 

"I  regret  that  I  am  unable  to  utter  the  words  of  Ruth," 
said  Cecilia,  in  a  low  voice.  She  felt  rather  tremulously ; 
opposed  only  to  the  letter  and  the  writer  of  it,  not  at  all 
to  Beauchamp,  except  on  account  of  his  idolatry  of  the 
wicked  revolutionist.  Far  from  having  a  sense  of  oppo- 
sition to  Beauchamp,  she  pitied  him  for  his  infatuation, 
and  in  her  lofty  mental  serenity  she  warmed  to  him  for  the 
seeming  boyishness  of  his  constant  and  extravagant  wor- 
ship of  the  man,  though  such  an  enthusiasm  ca'st  shadows 
on  his  intellect. 


300  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

;     He  was  reading  a  sentence  of  the  letter. 

"  I  hear  nothing  but  the  breeze,  Nevil,  '^  she  said. 

The  breeze  fluttered  the  letter-sheets  :  they  threatened 
to  fly.     Cecilia  stepped  two  paces  away. 

"Hark;  there  is  a  military  band  playing  on  the  pier," 
said  she.  "I  am  so  fond  of  hearing  music  a  little  off 
shore." 

Beauchamp  consigned  the  letter  to  his  pocket. 

"  You  are  not  offended,  Nevil  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  no.  You  have  n't  a  mind  for  tonics,  that 's 
all." 

"  Healthy  persons  rarely  have, "  she  remarked,  and  asked 
him,  smiling  softly,  whether  he  had  a  mind  for  music. 

His  insensibility  to  music  was  curious,  considering  how 
impressionable  he  was  to  verse,  and  to  songs  of  birds.  He 
listened  with  an  oppressed  look,  as  to  something  the  par- 
ticular secret  of  which  had  to  be  reached  by  a  determined 
effort  of  sympathy  for  those  whom  it  affected.  He  liked 
it  if  she  did,  and  said  he  liked  it,  reiterated  that  he  liked 
it,  clearly  trying  hard  to  comprehend  it,  as  unmoved  by 
the  swell  and  sigh  of  the  resonant  brass  as  a  man  could 
be,  while  her  romantic  spirit  thrilled  to  it,  and  was  boun- 
tiful in  glowing  visions  and  in  tenderness. 

There  hung  her  hand.  She  would  not  have  refused  to 
yield  it.  The  hero  of  her  childhood,  the  friend  of  her 
womanhood,  and  her  hero  still ,  might  have  taken  her  with 
half  a  word. 

Beauchamp  was  thinking :  She  can  listen  to  that  brass 
band,  and  she  shuts  her  ears  to  this  letter  ! 

The  reading  of  it  would  have  been  a  prelude  to  the  open- 
ing of  his  heart  to  her,  at  the  same  time  that  it  vindicated 
his  dear  and  honoured  master,  as  he  called  Dr.  Shrapnel. 
To  speak,  without  the  explanation  of  his  previous  reti- 
cence which  this  letter  would  afford,  seemed  useless :  even 
the  desire  to  speak  was  absent,  passion  being  absent. 

"I  see  papa;  he  is  getting  into  a  boat  with  some  one," 
said  Cecilia,  and  gave  orders  for  the  yacht  to  stand  in 
toward  the  Club  steps.  "  Do  you  know,  Nevil ,  the  Italian 
common  people  are  not  so  subject  to  the  charm  of  music 
as  other  races  ?  They  have  more  of  the  gift,  and  I  think 
less  of  the  feeling.     You  do  not  hear  much  music  in  Italy. 


AN  EFFORT  TO   C0:N^QITEII   CECILIA  301 

I  remember  in  the  year  of  Kevolution  there  was  danger  of 
a  rising  in  some  Austrian  city,  and  a  colonel  of  a  regiment 
commanded  his  band  to  play.  The  mob  was  put  in  good 
humour  immediately." 

"It 's  a  soporific,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"You  would  not  rather  have  had  them  rise  to  be 
slaughtered  ?  " 

"Would  you  have  them  waltzed  into  perpetual  ser- 
vility ?  " 

Cecilia  hummed,  and  suggested  :  "  If  one  can  have  them 
happy  in  any  way  ?  " 

"Then  the  day  of  destruction  may  almost  be  dated." 

"Nevil,  your  terrible  view  of  life  must  be  false." 

"  I  make  it  out  worse  to  you  than  to  anyone  else,  because 
I  want  our  minds  to  be  united." 

"Give  me  a  respite  now  and  then." 

"With  all  my  heart.  And  forgive  me  for  beating  my 
drum.  I  see  what  others  don't  see,  or  else  I  feel  it  more ; 
I  don't  know  ;  but  it  appears  to  me  our  country  needs 
rousing  if  it 's  to  live.  There  's  a  division  between  poor 
and  rich  that  you  have  no  conception  of,  and  it  can't  safely 
be  left  unnoticed.     I  've  done." 

He  looked  at  her  and  saw  tears  on  her  under-lids. 

"  My  dearest  Cecilia !  " 

"Music  makes  me  childish,"  said  she. 

Her  father  was  approaching  in  the  boat.  Beside  him  sat 
the  Earl  of  Lockrace,  latterly  classed  among  the  suitors  of 
the  lady  of  Mount  Laurels. 

A  few  minutes  remained  to  Beauchamp  of  his  lost  oppor- 
tunity. Instead  of  seizing  them  with  his  usual  prompti- 
tude, he  let  them  slip,  painfully  mindful  of  his  treatment 
i  of  her  last  year  after  the  drive  into  Bevisham,  when  she 
'  was  England,  and  Renee  holiday  France. 

This  feeling  he  fervently  translated  into  the  reflection 
that  the  bride  who  would  bring  him  beauty  and  wealth, 
and  her  especial  gift  of  tender  womanliness,  was  not  yet  so 
thoroughly  mastered  as  to  grant  her  husband  his  just  preva- 
lence with  her,  or  even  indeed  his  complete  independence 
of  action,  without  which  life  itself  was  not  desirable. 

Colonel  Halkett  stared  at  Beauchamp  as  if  he  had  risen 
from  the  deep. 


302  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

*'  Have  you  been  in  that  town  this  morning  ?  "  was  one 
of  his  first  questions  to  him  when  he  stood  on  board. 

"I  came  through  it,"  said  Beauchamp,  and  pointed  to  his 
little  cutter  labouring  in  the  distance.  "  She  's  mine  for 
a  month ;  I  came  from  Holdesbury  to  try  her ;  "  and  then 
he  stated  how  he  had  danced  attendance  on  the  schooner 
for  a  couple  of  hours  before  any  notice  was  taken  of  him, 
and  Cecilia  with  her  graceful  humour  held  up  his  presump- 
tion to  scorn. 

Her  father  was  eyeing  Beauchamp  narrowly,  and  ap- 
peared troubled. 

"Did  you  see  Mr.  Romfrey  yesterday,  or  this  morn- 
ing ?  "  the  colonel  asked  him,  mentioning  that  Mr.  Eom- 
frey  had  been  somewhere  about  the  island  yesterday,  at 
which  Beauchamp  expressed  astonishment,  for  his  uncle 
Everard  seldom  visited  a  yachting  station. 

Colonel  Halkett  exchanged  looks  with  Cecilia.  Hers 
were  inquiring,  and  he  confirmed  her  side-glance  at  Beau- 
champ. She  raised  her  brows  ;  he  nodded,  to  signify  that 
there  was  gravity  in  the  case.  Here  the  signalling  stopped 
short ;  she  had  to  carry  on  a  conversation  with  Lord  Lock- 
race,  one  of  those  men  who  betray  the  latent  despot  in 
an  exhibition  of  discontentment  unless  they  have  all  a 
lady's  hundred  eyes  attentive  to  their  discourse. 

At  last  Beauchamp  quitted  the  vessel. 

When  he  was  out  of  hearing.  Colonel  Halkett  said  to 
Cecilia  :  "  Grancey  Lespel  tells  me  that  Mr.  Romf rey 
called  on  the  man  Shrapnel  yesterday  evening  at  six 
o'clock." 

"Yes,  papa?" 

"  Now  come  and  see  the  fittings  below, "  the  colonel  ad- 
dressed Lord  Lockrace,  and  murmured  to  his  daughter: 
"And  soundly  horsewhipped  him  !  " 

Cecilia  turned  on  the  instant  to  gaze  after  Nevil  Beau- 
champ.    She  could  have  wept  for  pity.     Her  father's  em- 
phasis on  "  soundly  "  declared  an  approval  of  the  deed,  and  ^ 
she  was  chilled  by  a  sickening  abhorrence  and  dread  of  the  ^ 
cruel  brute  in  men,  such  as,  awakened  by  she  knew  not 
what,  had  haunted  her  for  a  year  of  her  girlhood. 

"  And  he  deserved  it !  '*  the  colonel  pursued,  on  emerging 
I  from  the  cabin  at  Lord  Lockrace's  heels.     "I  've  no  doubt 


AN  EFFORT   TO   CONQUER  CECILIA  303 

he  richly  deserved  it.  The  writer  of  that  letter  we  heard 
Captain  Baskelett  read  the  other  day  deserves  the  very 
worst  he  gets." 

"  Baskelett  bored  the  Club  the  other  night  with  a  letter 
of  a  Radical  fellow,"  said  Lord  Lockrace.  "Men  who 
write  that  stuff  should  be  strung  up  and  whipped  by  the 
common  hangman." 

"  It  was  a  private  letter,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  Public  or  private,  Miss  Halkett." 

Her  mind  flew  back  to  Seymour  Austin  for  the  sense  of 
stedfastness  when  she  heard  such  language  as  this,  which, 
taken  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  Shrapnel's,  seemed  to  uncloak 
our  Constitutional  realm  and  show  it  boiling  up  with  the 
frightful  elements  of  primitive  societies. 

"  I  suppose  we  are  but  half  civilized,"   she  said. 

"If  that,"   said  the  earl. 

Colonel  Halkett  protested  that  he  never  could  quite 
make  out  what  Radicals  were  driving  at. 

"The  rents,"  Lord  Lockrace  observed  in  the  conclusive 
tone  of  brevity.     He  did  not  stay  very  long. 

The  schooner  was  boarded  subsequently  by  another 
nobleman,  an  Admiral  of  the  Fleet  and  ex-minister  of  the 
Whig  Government,  Lord  Croyston,  who  was  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Romfrey's,  and  thought  well  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  as  a  sea- 
man and  naval  officer,  but  shook  an  old  head  over  him  as  a 
politician.  He  came  to  beg  a  passage  across  the  water  to 
his  marine  Lodge,  an  accident  having  happened  early  in 
the  morning  to  his  yacht,  the  Lady  Violet.  He  was  able  to 
communicate  the  latest  version  of  the  horsewhipping  of  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  from  which  it  appeared  that  after  Mr.  Romfrey 
had  handsomely  flogged  the  man  he  flung  his  card  on  the 
prostrate  body,  to  let  men  know  who  was  responsible  for 
the  act.  He  expected  that  Mr.  Romfrey  would  be  subjected 
to  legal  proceedings.  "  But  if  there  's  a  pleasure  worth 
paying  for  it 's  the  trouncing  of  a  villain,"  said  he  ;  and 
he  had  been  informed  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  was  a  big  one. 
Lord  Croyston's  favourite  country  residence  was  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  old  Mrs.  Beauchamp,  on  the  upper 
Thames.  Speaking  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  a  second  time, 
he  alluded  to  his  relations  with  his  great-aunt,  said  his 
prospects  were  bad,  that  she  had  interdicted  her  house  to 
him,  and  was  devoted  to  her  other  great-nephew. 


304  BEAtrCHAMP's   CAREER 

"  And  so  she  should  be,"  said  Colonel  Halkett.  "  That  *s 
a  young  man^  who 's  an  Englishman  without  French  gun- 
powder notions  in  his  head.  He  works  for  us  down  at 
the  mine  in  Wales -a  good  part  of  the  year,  and  has  tided 
us  over  a  threatening  strike  there  :  gratuitously :  I  can't 
get  him  to  accept  anything.     I  can't  think  why  he  does 

it."  )       V 

"He'll  have  plenty,"  said  Lord  Croyston,  levelling  his 
telescope  to  sight  the  racing  cutters. 

Cecilia  fancied  she  descried  Nevil's  Petrel,  dubbed 
Curlew,  to  Eastward,  and  had  a  faint  gladness  in  the 
thought  that  his  knowledge  of  his  uncle  Everard's  deed 
of  violence  would  be  deferred  for  another  two  or  three 
hours. 

She  tried  to  persuade  her  father  to  wait  for  Nevil,  and 
invite  him  to  dine  at  Mount  Laurels,  and  break  the  news 
to  him  gently.  Colonel  Halkett  argued  that  in  speaking 
of  the  affair  he  should  certainly  not  commiserate  the 
man  who  had  got  his  deserts,  and  saying  this  he  burst 
into  a  pett}''  fury  against  the  epistle  of  Dr.  Shrapnel, 
which  appeared  to  be  growing  more  monstrous  in  pro- 
portion to  his  forgetfulness  of  the  details,  as  mountains 
gather  vastness  to  the  eye  at  a  certain  remove.  Though 
he  could  not  guess  the  reason  for  Mr.  Romfrey's  visit  to 
Bevisham,  he  was,  he  said,  quite  prepared  to  maintain 
that  Mr.  Romfrey  had  a  perfect  justification  for  his 
conduct. 

Cecilia  hinted  at  barbarism.  The  colonel  hinted  at  high 
police  duties  that  gentlemen  were  sometimes  called  on  to 
perform  for  the  protection  of  society.  ''  In  defiance  of  its 
laws  ?  '^  she  asked ;  and  he  answered,  "  Women  must  not 
be  judging  things  out  of  their  sphere,"  with  the  familiar 
accent  on  "  women  "  which  proves  their  inferiority.  He 
was  rarely  guilty  of  it  toward  his  daughter.  Evidently 
he  had  resolved  to  back  Mr.  Romfrey  blindly.  That 
epistle  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  merited  condign  punishment 
and  had  met  with  it,  he  seemed  to  rejoice  in  saying :  and 
this  was  his  abstract  of  the  same :  "  An  old  charlatan  who 
tells  his  dupe  to  pray  every  night  of  his  life  for  the  behead- 
ing of  kings  and  princes,  and  scattering  of  the  clergy,  and, 
disbanding  the  army,  that  he  and  his  rabble  may  fall  upon 


AN  EFFORT   TO   CONQUER   CECILIA  305 

the ,  wealthy,  and  show  us  numbers  win ;  and  he  '11  under- 
take to  make  them  moral !  " 

"I  wish  we  were  not  going  to  Steynham,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  So  do  I.  Well,  no,  I  don't,"  the  colonel  corrected  him- 
self, "  no  ;  it 's  an  engagement.  I  gave  my  consent  so  far. 
We  shall  see  whether  Nevil  Beauchamp  's  a  man  of 'any 
sense."  •   ./ 

Her  heart  sank.  This  was  as  much  as  to  let  her  know 
that  if  Nevil  broke  with  his  uncle,  the  treaty  of  union 
between  the  two  families,  which  her  father  submitted  to 
entertain  out  of  consideration  for  Mr.  Romfrey,  would  be 
at  an  end. 

The  wind  had  fallen.  Entering  her  river,  Cecilia  gazed 
back  at  the  smooth  broad  Avater,  and  the  band  of  golden 
beams  flung  across  it  from  the  evening  sun  over  the  forest. 
No  little  cutter  was  visible.  She  could  not  write  to  Nevil  to 
bid  him  come  and  concert  with  her  in  what  spirit  to  en- 
counter his  uncle  Everard  at  Steynham.  And  guests  would 
be  at  Mount  Laurels  next  day ;  Lord  Lockrace,  Lord  Croyston, 
and  the  Lespels  ;  she  could  not  drive  down  to  Bevishara  on 
the  chance  of  seeing  him.  Nor  was  it  to  be  acknowledged 
even  to  herself  that  she  so  greatly  desired  to  see  him  and 
advise  him.  Why  not  ?  Because  she  was  one  of  the  arti- 
ficial creatures  called  women  (with  the  accent)  who  dare 
not  be  spontaneous,  and  cannot  act  independently  if  they 
would  continue  to  be  admirable  in  the  world's  eye,  and 
who  for  that  object  must  remain  fixed  on  shelves,  like 
other  marketable  wares,  avoiding  motion  to  avoid  shatter- 
ing or  tarnishing.  This  is  their  fate,  only  in  degree  less 
inhuman  than  that  of  Hellenic  and  Trojan  princesses 
offered  up  to  the  Gods,  or  pretty  slaves  to  the  dealers. 
Their  artificiality  is  at  once  their  bane  and  their  source  of 
superior  pride. 

Seymour  Austin  might  have  reason  for  seeking  to  eman- 
cipate them,  she  thought,  and  blushed  in  thought  that  she 
could  never  be  learning  anything  but  from  her  own  imme- 
diate sensations. 

Of  course  it  was  in  her  power  to  write  to  Beauchamp,  just 
as  it  had  been  in  his  to  speak  to  her,  but  the  fire  was  wanting 
in  her  blood  and  absent  from  his  mood,  so  they  were  kept 
apart. 

20 


306  BEAXJCHAI^IP'S  CAREER 

Her  father  knew  as  little  as  she  what  was  the  positive 
cause  of  Mr.  Eomfrey's  chastisement  of  Dr.  Shrapnel. 
"  Cause  enough,  I  don't  doubt/'  he  said,  and  cited  the 
mephitic  letter. 

Cecilia  was  not  given  to  suspicions,  or  she  would  have 
had  them  kindled  by  a  certain  wilfulness  in  his  incessant 
reference  to  the  letter,  and  exoneration,  if  not  approval,  of 
Mr.  Romfrey'S  conduct. 

How  did  that  chivalrous  gentleman  justify  himself  for 
condescending  to  such  an  extreme  as  the  use  of  personal 
violence  ?  Was  there  a  possibility  of  his  justifying  it  to 
Nevil  ?  She  was  most  wretched  in  her  reiteration  of  these 
inquiries,  for,  with  a  heart  subdued,  she  had  still  a  mind 
whose  habit  of  independent  judgement  was  not  to  be  con- 
strained, and  while  she  felt  that  it  was  only  by  siding  with 
Nevil  submissively  and  blindly  in  this  lamentable  case  that 
she  could  hope  for  happiness,  she  foresaw  the  likelihood  of 
her  not  being  able  to  do  so  as  much  as  he  would  desire  and 
demand.  This  she  took  for  the  protest  of  her  pure  reason. 
In  reality,  grieved  though  she  was  on  account  of  that 
Dr.  Shrapnel,  her  captive  heart  resented  the  anticipated 
challenge  to  her  to  espouse  his  cause  or  languish. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIII 

THE    FIRST  ENCOUNTER   AT   STEYNHAM 

The  judge  pronouncing  sentence  of  condemnation  on  the 
criminal  is  proverbially  a  sorrowfully-minded  man  ;  and 
still  more  would  he  be  so  had  he  to  undertake  the  part  of 
executioner  as  well.  This  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  the 
simple  pleasures  are  no  longer  with  us ;  it  must  be  a  per- 
sonal enemy  now  to  give  us  any  satisfaction  in  chastising 
and  slaying.  Perhaps  by-and-by  that  will  be  savourless  : 
we  degenerate.  There  is,  nevertheless,  ever  (and  let  nature 
be  praised  for  it)  a  strong  sustainment  in  the  dutiful  exer- 
tion of  our  physical  energies,  and  Mr.  Everard  Romfrey 
experienced  it  after  he  had  fulfilled  his  double  office  on  the 


THE   FIRST   ENCOUNTER   AT   STEYNHAM  307 

person  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  by  carrying  out  his  own  decree.  His 
conscience  approved  him  cheerlessly,  as  it  is  the  habit  of 
that  secret  monitor  to  do  when  we  have  no  particular 
advantage  coming  of  the  act  we  have  performed ;  but  the 
righteous  labour  of  his  arm  gave  him  high  breathing  and 
an  appetite. 

He  foresaw  that  he  and  Nevil  would  soon  be  having  a 
wrestle  over  the  matter,  hand  and  thigh;  but  a  gentleman 
in  the  right  engaged  with  a  fellow  in  tlie  wrong  has  nothing 
to  apprehend ;  is,  in  fact,  in  the  position  of  a  game-preserver 
with  a  poacher.  The  nearest  approach  to  gratification  in 
that  day's  work  which  Mr.  Romfrey  knew  was  offered  by 
the  picture  of  Nevil's  lamentable  attitude  above  his  dirty 
idol.  He  conceived  it  in  the  mock-mediaeval  style  of  our 
caricaturists  :  —  Shrapnel  stretched  at  his  length,  half  a 
league,  in  slashed  yellows  and  blacks,  with  his  bauble  beside 
him,  and  prodigious  pointed  ,toes  ;  Nevil  in  parti-coloured 
tights,  on  one  leg,  raising  his  fists  in  imprecation  to  a  nose 
in  the  firmament. 

Gentlemen  of  an  unpractised  imaginative  capacity  cannot 
vision  for  themselves  exactly  what  they  would,  being 
unable  to  exercise  authority  over  the  proportions  and  the 
hues  of  the  objects  they  conceive,  which  are  very  much  at 
the  mercy  of  their  sportive  caprices ;  and  the  state  of  mind 
of  Mr.  Romfrey  is  not  to  be  judged  by  his  ridiculous  view 
of  the  pair.  In  the  abstract  he  could  be  sorry  for  Shrapnel. 
As  he  knew  himself  magnanimous,  he  promised  himself  to 
be  forbearing  with  Nevil. 

Moreover,  the  month  of  September  was  drawing  nigh; 
he  had  plenty  to  think  of.  The  entire  land  (signifying  all 
but  all  of  those  who  occupy  the  situation  of  thinkers  in  it) 
may  be  said  to  have  been  exhaling  the  same  thought  in 
connection  with  September.  Our  England  holds  possession 
of  a  considerable  portion  of  the  globe,  and  it  keeps  the 
world  in  awe  to  see  her  bestowing  so  considerable  a  portion 
of  her  intelligence  upon  her  recreations.  To  prosecute 
them  with  her  whole  heart  is  an  ingenious  exhibition  of  her 
power.  Mr.  Romfrey  was  of  those  who  said  to  his  country- 
men, "Go  yachting;  go  cricketing;  go  boat-racing;  go 
shooting ;  go  horse-racing,  nine  months  of  the  year,  while 
the  other  Europeans  go  marching  and  drilling."     Those 


308  BEATJCHAMP'S   CAREER 

occupations  he  considered  good  for  us ;  and  our  much  talk- 
ing, writing,  and  thinking  about  them  characteristic,  and 
therefore  good.  And  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  do 
penance  for  that  sweating  indolence  in  the  fits  of  desperate 
panic.  Beauchamp's  argument  that  the  rich  idler  begets 
the  idling  vagabond,  the  rich  wagerer  the  brutal  swindler,^ 
the  general  thirst  for  a  mad  round  of  recreation  a  generally- 
increasing  disposition  to  avoid  serious  work,  and  the  un- 
braced moral  tone  of  the  country  an  indifference  to  national 
responsibility  (an  argument  doubtless  extracted  from  Shrap- 
nel, talk  tall  as  the  very  demagogue  when  he  stood  upright), 
Mr.  Romfrey  laughed  at  scornfully,  affirming  that  our 
manufactures  could  take  care  of  themselves.  As  for  in- 
vasion, we  are  circled  by  the  sea.  Providence  has  done 
that  for  us,  and  may  be  relied  on  to  do  more  in  an  emer- 
gency. —  The  children  of  wealth  and  the  children  of  the 
sun  alike  believe  that  Providence  is  for  them,  and  it  would 
seem  that  the  former  can  do  without  it  less  than  the 
latter,  though  the  former  are  less  inclined  to  give  it 
personification. 

This  year,  however,  the  array  of  armaments  on  the  Con- 
tinent made  Mr.  Romfrey  anxious  about  our  navy.  Almost 
his  first  topic  in  welcoming  Colonel  Halkett  and  Cecilia  to 
Steynham  was  the  rottenness  of  navy  administration;  for 
if  Providence  is  to  do  anything  for  us  it  must  have  a  sea- 
worthy fleet  for  the  operation.  How  loudly  would  his 
contemptuous  laughter  have  repudiated  the  charge  that  he 
trusted  to  supernatural  agency  for  assistance  in  case  of 
need  !  But  so  it  was :  and  he  owned  to  believing  in  Eng- 
lish luck.  Partly  of  course  he  meant  that  steady  fire  of 
combat  which  his  countrymen  have  got  heated  to  of  old  till 
fortune  blessed  them. 

"  Nevil  is  not  here  ?  "  the  colonel  asked. 

"  No,  I  suspect  he 's  gruelling  and  plastering  a  doctor  of 
his  acquaintance,"  Mr.  Romfrey  said,  with  his  nasal  laugh 
composed  of  scorn  and  resignation. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  've  heard, "  said  Colonel  Halkett  hastily. 

He  would  have  liked  to  be  informed  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
particular  offence :  he  mentioned  the  execrable  letter. 

Mr.  Romfrey  complacently  interjected :  "  Drug- vomit  I  " 
and  after  an  interval :  "  Gallows  ! " 


THE  FIEST  EKCOUNTER  AT  STEYKHAM  309 

"  That  man  has  done  Nevil  Beauchamp  a  world  of  mis- 
chief, Romfrey." 

"We'll  hope  for  a  cure,  colonel." 

"  Did  the  man  come  across  you  ?  " 

"He  did." 

Mr.  E-omfrey  was  mute  on  the  subject.  Colonel  Halkett 
abstained  from  pushing  his  inquiries. 

Cecilia  could  only  tell  her  father  when  they  were  alone 
in  the  drawing-room  a  few  minutes  before  dinner  that  Mrs. 
Culling  was  entirely  ignorant  of  any  cause  to  which  Nevil's 
absence  might  be  attributed. 

"Mr.  Romfrey  had  good  cause,"  the  colonel  said,  em- 
phatically. 

He  repeated  it  next  day,  without  being  a  bit  wiser  of  the 
cause. 

Cecilia's  happiness  or  hope  was  too  sensitive  to  allow  of 
a  beloved  father's  deceiving  her  in  his  opposition  to  it. 
She  saw  clearly  now  that  he  had  fastened  on  this  miserable 
incident,  expecting  an  imbroglio  that  would  divide  Nevil 
and  his  uncle,  and  be  an  excuse  for  dividing  her  and  Nevil. 
0  for  the  passionate  will  to  make  head  against  what  ap- 
peared as  a  fate  in  this  matter  !     She  had  it  not. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux,  Sir  John  and  Lady 
Baskelett,  and  the  Countess  of  Welshpool,  another  sister  of 
Mr.  Romfrey's,  arrived  at  Steynham  for  a  day  and  a  night. 
Lady  Baskelett  and  Lady  Welshpool  came  to  see  their 
brother,  not  to  countenance  his  household;  and  Mr. 
Wardour-Devereux  could  not  stay  longer  than  a  certain 
number  of  hours  under  a  roof  where  tobacco  was  in  evil 
odour.  From  her  friend  Louise,  his  wife,  Cecilia  learnt 
that  Mr.  Lydiard  had  been  summoned  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
bedside,  as  Mrs.  Devereux  knew  by  a  letter  she  had  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Lydiard,  who  was  no  political  devotee  of 
that  man,  she  assured  Cecilia,  but  had  an  extraordinary 
admiration  for  the  Miss  Denham  living  with  him.  This 
was  kindly  intended  to  imply  that  Beauchamp  was  released 
from  his  attendance  on  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  also  that  it  was 
not  he  whom  the  Miss  Denham  attracted. 

"  She  is  in  Switzerland,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  She  is  better  there,"  said  Mrs.  Devereux.- 

Mr.  Stukely  Culbrett  succeeded  to  these  visitors.    He 


310  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

heard  of  the  case  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  from  Colonel  Halkett, 
and  of  Beauchamp's  missing  of  his  chance  with  the  heiress 
from  Mr.  Romfrey. 

Rosamund  Culling  was  in  great  perplexity  about  Beau- 
champ's  prolonged  absence ;  for  he  had  engaged  to  come,  he 
had  written  to  her  to  say  he  would  be  sure  to  come  ;  and 
sh6  feared  he  was  ill.  She  would  have  persuaded  Mr. 
Culbrett  to  go  down  to  Bevisham  to  see  him  :  she  declared 
that  she  could  even  persuade  herself  to  call  on  Dr.  Shrapnel 
a  second  time,  in  spite  of  her  horror  of  the  man.  Her 
anger/at  the  thought  of  his  keeping  Nevil  away  from  good 
fortune  and  happiness  caused  her  to  speak  in  resentment 
and  loathing  of  the  man. 

"  He  behaved  badly  when  you  saw  him,  did  he  ? "  said 
Stukely. 

"  Badly,  is  no  word.   He  is  detestable,"  Rosamund  replied. 

"  You  think  he  ought  to  be  whipped  ?  " 

She  feigned  an  extremity  of  vindictiveness,  and  twisted 
her  brows  in  comic  apology  for  the  unfeminine  sentiment, 
as  she  said,  "  I  really  do." 

The  feminine  gentleness  of  her  character  was  known  to 
Stukely,  so  she  could  afford  to  exaggerate  the  expression  of 
her  anger,  and  she  did  not  modify  it,  forgetful  that  a 
woman  is  the  representative  of  the  sex  with  cynical  men, 
and  escapes  from  contempt  at  the  cost  Q.f  her  sisterhood. 

Looking  out  of  an  upper  window  in  the  afternoon  she 
beheld  Nevil  Beauchamp  in  a  group  with  his  uncle  Everard, 
the  colonel  and  Cecilia,  and  Mr.  Culbrett.  Nevil  was  on  his 
feet ;  the  others  were  seated  under  the  great  tulip-tree  on 
the  lawn. 

A  little  observation  of  them  warned  her  that  something 
was  wrong.  There  was  a  vacant  chair ;  Nevil  took  it  in  his 
hand  at  times,  stamped  it  to  the  ground,  walked  away  and 
sharply  back  fronting  his  uncle,  speaking  vehemently,  she 
perceived,  and  vainly,  as  she  judged  by  the  cast  of  his 
uncle's  figure.  Mr.  Romfrey's  head  was  bent,  and  wagged 
slightly,  as  he  screwed  his  brows  up  and  shot  his  eyes 
queerly  at  the  agitated  young  man.  Colonel  Halkett's 
arms  crossed  his  chest.  Cecilia's  eyelids  drooped  their 
lashes.  Mr.  Culbrett  was  balancing  on  the  hind-legs  of  his 
chair.     No  one  appeared  to  be  speaking  but  Nevil, 


THE  FIRST  ENCOUNTER  AT   STEYNHAM  311 

It  became  evident  tliat  Nevil  was  putting  a  series  of 
questions  to  his  uncle.  Mechanical  nods  were  given  him  in 
reply. 

Presently  Mr.  Komfrey  rose,  thundering  out  a  word  or 
two,  without  a  gesture. 

Colonel  Halkett  rose. 

Nevil  flung  his  hand  out  stiraight  to  the  house. 

Mr.  Romfrey  seemed  to  consent ;  the  colonel  shook  his 
head  :  Nevil  insisted.  '^ 

A  footman  carrying  a  tea-tray  to  Miss  Halkett  received 
some  commission  and  swiftly  disappeared,  making  Rosa- 
mund wonder  whether  sugar,  milk,  or  cream  had  been 
omitted. 

She  met  him  on  the  first  landing,  and  heard  that  ^Mr. 
Romfrey  requested  her  to  step  out  on  the  lawn. 

Expecting  to  hear  of  a  piece  of  misconduct  on  the  part  of 
the  household  servants,  she  hurried  forth,  and  found  that 
she  had  to  traverse  the  whole  space  of  the  lawn  up  to  the 
tulip-tree.  Colonel  Halkett  and  Mr.  Romfrey  had  resumed 
their  seats.     The  colonel  stood  up  and  bowed  to  her. 

Mr.  Romfrey  said :  "  One  question  to^ou,  ma'am,  and 
you  shall  not  be  detained.  Did  not  that  man  Shrapnel 
grossly  insult  you  on  the  day  you  called  on  him  to  see 
Captain  Beauchamp  about  a  couple  of  months  before  the 
Election  ?  " 

"  Look  at  me  when  you  speak,  ma'am,''  said  Beauchamp. 

Rosamund  looked  at  him. 

The  whiteness  of  his  face  paralyzed  her  tongue.  A 
dreadful  levelling  of  his  eyes  penetrated  and  chilled  her. 
Instead  of  thinking  of  her  answer  she  thought  of  what 
could  possibly  have  happened. 

"  Did  he  insult  you  at  all,  ma'am  ?  "  said  Beauchamp. 

Mr.  Romfrey  reminded  him  that  he  was  not  a  cross- 
examining  criminal  barrister. 

They  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

She  hesitated,  coloured,  betrayed  confusion;  her  senses 
telling  her  of  a  catastrophe,  her  conscience  accusing  her  as 
the  origin  of  it. 

*^Did  Dr.  Shrapnel,  to  your  belief,  intentionally  hurt 
your  feelings  or  your  dignity  ? "  said  Beauchamp,  and 
made  the  answer  easier,  — 


312  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"  Not  intentionally,  surely  :  not  ...  I  certainly  do  not 
accuse  him." 

"  Can  you  tell  me  you  feel  that  he  wounded  you  in  the 
smallest  degree  ?  And  if  so,  how  ?  I  ask  you  this,  be- 
cause he  is  anxious,  if  he  lives,  to  apologize  to  you  for  any 
offence  that  he  may  have  been  guilty  of :  he  was  ignorant 
of  it.  I  have  his  word  for  that,  and  his  commands  to  me 
to  bear  it  to  you.  I  may  tell  you  I  have  never  known  him 
injure  the  most  feeble  thing  —  anything  alive,  or  wish  to." 

Beauchamp's  voice  choked.  Rosamund  saw  tears  leap 
out  of  the  stern  face  of  her  dearest  now  in  wrath  with 
her. 

« Is  he  ill  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"  He  is.  You  own  to  a  strong  dislike  of  him,  do  you 
not  ?  " 

*^But  not  to  desire  any  harm  to  him." 

"  Not  a  whipping,"  Mr.  Culbrett  murmured. 

Everard  Eomfrey  overheard  it. 

He  had  allowed  Mrs.  Culling  to  be  sent  for,  that  she 
might  with  a  bare  affirmative  silence  Nevil,  when  his 
conduct  was  becoming  intolerable  before  the  guests  of  the 
house. 

"  That  will  do,  ma'am,"  he  dismissed  her. 

Beauchamp  would  not  let  her  depart. 

"I  must  have  your  distinct  reply,  and  in  Mr.  Romfrey's 
presence :  —  say,  that  if  you  accused  him  you  were  mis- 
taken, or  that  they  were  mistaken  who  supposed  you  had 
accused  him.     I  must  have  the  answer  before  you  go." 

"  Sir,  will  you  learn  manners  ! "  Mr.  Romfrey  said  to  him, 
with  a  rattle  of  the  throat. 

Beauchamp  turned  his  face  from  her. 

Colonel  Halkett  offered  her  his  arm  to  lead  her  away. 

"  What  is  it  ?  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  whispered,  scarcely 
able  to  walk,  but  declining  the  colonel's  arm. 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  been  dragged  out  here,"  said  he. 
"  Anyone  might  have  known  there  would  be  no  convincing 
of  Captain  Beauchamp.  That  old  rascal  in  Bevisham  has 
been  having  a  beating;  that's  all.  And  a  very  beautiful 
day  it  is  !  —  a  little  too  hot,  though.  Before  we  leave,  you 
must  give  me  a  lesson  or  two  in  gardening." 

"  Dr.  Shrapnel  —  Mr.  Romfrey  !  "  said  Rosamund   half 


THE  FIEST   ENCOUl^TEIl   AT   STEYNHAM  313 

audibly  under  the  oppression  of  the  more  she  saw  than 
what  she  said. 

The  colonel  talked  of  her  renown  in  landscape-gardening. 
He  added  casually  :  "  They  met  the  other  day.'' 

"  By  accident  ?  " 

"By  chance,  I  suppose.  Shrapnel  defends  one  of  your 
Steynham  poaching  vermin.'* 

'*  Mr.  Romf rey  struck  him  ?  —  for  that  ?  Oh,  never !  " 
Eosamund  exclaimed. 

"  I  suppose  he  had  a  long  account  to  settle." 

She  fetched  her  breath  painfully.  "I  shall  never  be 
forgiven." 

"And  I  say  that  a  gentleman  has  no  business  with 
idols,"  the  colonel  fumed  as  he  spoke.  "  Those  letters  of 
Shrapnel  to  Nevil  Beauchamp  are  a  scandal  on  the  name 
of  Englishman." 

"  You  have  read  that  shocking  one,  Colonel  Halkett  ?  " 

"  Captain  Baskelett  read  it  out  to  us." 

"'  He  ?  Oh  !  then  .  .  ."  She  stopped  :  —  Then  the 
author  of  this  mischief  is  clear  to  me  !  her  divining  hatred 
of  Cecil  would  have  said,  but  her  humble  position  did  not 
warrant  such  speech.  A  consideration  of  the  lowliness 
necessitating  this  restraint  at  a  moment  when  loudly  to  de- 
nounce another's  infamy  with  triumphant  insight  would 
have  solaced  and  supported  her,  kept  Rosamund  dumb. 

She  could  not  bear  to  think  of  her  part  in  the  mischief. 
She  was  not  bound  to  think  of  it,  knowing  actually  nothing 
of  the  occurrence. 

Still  she  felt  that  she  was  on  her  trial.  She  detected 
herself  running  in  and  out  of  her  nature  to  fortify  it  against 
accusations  rather  than  cleanse  it  for  inspection.  It  was 
narrowing  in  her  own  sight.  The  prospect  of  her  having 
to  submit  to  a  further  interrogatory,  shut  it  up  entrenched 
in  the  declaration  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  had  so  far  outraged  her 
sentiments  as  to  be  said  to  have  offended  her :  not  insulted, 
perhaps,  but  certainly  offended. 

And  this  was  a  generous  distinction.  It  was  generous ; 
and,  having  recognized  the  generosity,  she  was  unable  to  go 
beyond  it. 

She  was  presently  making  the  distinction  to  Miss  Halkett. 
The  colonel  had  left  her  at  the  door  of  the  house:  Miss 


314  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

Halkett  sought  admission  to  her  private  room  on  an  errand 
of  condolence,  for  she  had  sympathized  with  her  very  much 
in  the  semi-indignity  Nevil  had  forced  her  to  undergo  :  and 
very  little  indeed  had  she  been  able  to  sympathize  with 
Nevil,  who  had  been  guilty  of  the  serious  fault  of  allowing 
himself  to  appear  moved  by  his  own  commonplace  utter- 
ances; or,  in  other  words,  the  theme  being  hostile  to  his 
audience,  he  had  betrayed  emotion  over  it  without  first 
evoking  the  spirit  of  pathos. 

"  As  for  me,"  Kosamund  replied,  to  some  comforting 
remarks  of  Miss  Halkett' s,  "I  do  not  understand  why  I 
should  be  mixed  up  in  Dr.  Shrapnel's  misfortunes  :  I  really 
am  quite  unable  to  recollect  his  words  to  me  or  his  behav- 
iour :  I  have  only  a  positive  impression  that  I  left  his  house, 
where  I  had  gone  to  see  Captain  Beauchamp,  in  utter  dis- 
gust, so  repelled  by  his  language  that  I  could  hardly  trust 
myself  to  speak  of  the  man  to  Mr.  Eomfrey  when  he  ques- 
tioned me.  I  did  not  volunteer  it.  I  am  ready  to  say  that 
I  believe  Dr.  Shrapnel  did  not  intend  to  be  insulting.  I 
cannot  say  that  he  was  not  offensive.  You  know,  Miss 
Halkett,  I  would  willingly,  gladly  have  saved  him  from 
anything  like  punishment." 

*' You  are  too  gentle  to  have  thought  of  it,"  said  Cecilia. 

^'  But  I  shall  never  be  forgiven  by  Captain  Beauchamp. 
I  see  in  his  eyes  that  he  accuses  me  and  despises  me." 

"  He  will  not  be  so  unjust,  Mrs.  Culling." 

Rosamund  begged  that  she  might  hear  what  Nevil  had 
first  said  on  his  arrival. 

Cecilia  related  that  they  had  seen  him  walking  swiftly 
across  the  park,  and  that  Mr.  Romfrey  had  hailed  him,  and 
held  his  hand  out ;  and  that  Captain  Beauchamp  had  over- 
looked it,  saying  he  feared  Mr.  Romfrey's  work  was  com- 
plete. He  had  taken  her  father's  hand  and  hers  :  and  his 
touch  was  like  ice. 

"His  worship  of  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  extraordinary," 
quoth  Rosamund.  "  And  -how  did  Mr.  Romfrey  behave  to 
him  ?  " 

"My  father  thinks,  very  forbearingly." 

Rosamund  sighed  and  made  a  semblance  of  wringing  her 
hands.  "It  seems  to  me  that  I  anticipated  ever  since  I 
heard  of  the  man  .  .  . "  or  at  least  ever  since  I  saw  him  and 


THE  FIRST   ENCOUNTER  AT   STEYNHAM  315 

heard  him,  he  would  be  the  evil  genius  of  us  all :  — if  I  dare 
include  myself.  But  I  am  not  permitted  to  escape  !  And, 
Miss  Halkett,  can  you  tell  me  how  it  was  that  my  name  — 
that  I  became  involved  ?  I  cannot  imagine  the  circum- 
stances which  would  bring  me  forward  in  this  unhappy 
affair/^ 

Cecilia  replied:  "The  occasion  was,  that  Captain  Beau- 
champ  so  scornfully  contrasted  the  sort  of  injury  done  by 
Dr.  Shrapnel's  defence  of  a  poacher  on  his  uncle's  estate, 
with  the  severe  chastisement  inflicted  by  Mr.  Komfrey  in 
revenge  for  it.     He  would  not  leave  the  subject." 

"  I  see  him  —  see  his  eyes  ! ''  cried  Rosamund,  her  bosom 
heaving  and  sinking  deep,  as  her  conscience  quavered  within 
her.     "  At  last  Mr.  Romf rey  mentioned  me  ?  " 

"  He  stood  up  and  said  you  had  been  personally  insulted 
by  Dr.  Shrapnel." 

Rosamund  meditated  in  a  distressing  doubt  of  her  con- 
scientious truthfulness. 

"  Captain  Beauchamp  will  be  coming  to  me ;  and  how  can 
I  answer  him  ?  Heaven  knows  I  would  have  shielded  the 
poor  man,  if  possible  —  poor  wretch  !  Wicked  though  he  is, 
one  has  only  to  hear  of  him  suffering !  But  what  can  I 
answer  ?  I  do  recollect  now  that  Mr.  Romfrey  compelled 
me  from  question  to  question  to  confess  that  tlie  man  had 
vexed  me.  Insulted,  I  never  said.  At  the  worst,  I  said 
vexed.  I  would  not  have  said  insulted,  or  even  offended, 
because  Mr.  Romfrey  .  .  .  ah!  we  know  him.  What  I  did 
say,  I  forget.  I  have  no  guide  to  what  I  said  but  my  present 
feelings,  and  they  are  pity  for  the  unfortunate  man  much 
more  than  dislike.  —  Well,  I  must  go  through  the  scene  with 
Nevil!"  Rosamund  concluded  her  outcry  of  ostensible 
exculpation. 

She  asked  in  a  cooler  moment  how  it  was  that  Captain 
Beauchamp  had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  burst  out  on 
his  uncle  before  the  guests  of  the  house.  It  appeared  that 
he  had  wished  his  uncle  to  withdraw  with  him,  and  Mr. 
Romfrey  had  bidden  him  postpone  private  communications. 
Rosamund  gathered  from  one  or  two  words  of  Cecilia's 
that  Mr.  Romfrey,  until  finally  stung  by  Nevil,  had  in- 
dulged in  his  best-humoured  banter. 


316  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE    FACE    OF    RENEE 

Shortly  before  the  ringing  of  the  dinner-bell  Rosamund 
knocked  at  Beauchamp's  dressing-room  door,  the  bearer  of 
a  telegram  from  Bevisham.  He  read  it  in  one  swift  run  of 
the  eyes,  and  said  :  "  Come  in,  ma'am,  I  have  something  for 
you.     Madame  de  Rouaillout  sends  you  this." 

Rosamund  saw  her  name  written  in  a  French  hand  on 
the  back  of  the  card. 

"  You  stay  with  us,  Nevil  ?  " 

"To-night  and  to-morrow,  perhaps.  The  danger  seems 
to  be  over." 

"  Has  Dr.  Shrapnel  been  in  danger  ?  " 

*^  He  has.     If  it 's  quite  over  now  ! " 

"  I  declare  to  you,  Nevil  .  .  ." 

/'  Listen  to  me,  ma'am  ;  I  'm  in  the  dark  about  this  mur- 
derous business  :  —  an  old  man,  defenceless,  harmless  as  a 
child  !  —  but  I  know  this,  that  you  are  somewhere  in  it." 

"  Nevil,  do  you  not  guess  at  some  one  else  ?  " 

"  He !  yes,  he  !  But  Cecil  Baskelett  led  no  blind  man  to 
Dr.  Shrapnel's  gate." 

"  Nevil,  as  I  live,  I  knew  nothing  of  it !  " 

"  No,  but  you  set  fire  to  the  train.  You  hated  the  old 
man,  and  you  taught  Mr.  Romfrey  to  think  that  you  had 
been  insulted.  I  see  it  all.  Now  you  must  have  the  cour- 
age to  tell  him  of  your  error.  There  's  no  other  course  for 
you.  I  mean  to  take  Mr.  Romfrey  to  Dr.  Shrapnel,  to  save 
the  honour  of  our  family,  as  far  as  it  can  be  saved." 

"  What  ?  Nevil ! "  exclaimed  Rosamund,  gaping. 

"  It  seems  little  enough,  ma'am.  But  he  must  go.  I  will 
have  the  apology  spoken,  and  man  to  man." 

"  But  you  would  never  tell  your  uncle  that  ?  " 

He  laughed  in  his  uncle's  manner. 

"  But,  Nevil,  my  dearest,  forgive  me,  I  think  of  you  — 
why  are  the  Halketts  here  ?  It  is  not  entirely  with  Colonel 
Halkett's  consent.  It  is  your  uncle's  influence  with  him 
that  gives  you  your  chance.     Do  you  not  care  to  avail  your- 


THE   FACE   OF   KENEE  317 

self  of  it?  Ever  since  he  heard  Dr.  ShrapnePs  letter  to 
you,  Colonel  Halkett  has,  I  am  sure,  been  tempted  to  con- 
found you  with  him  in  his  mind  :  —  ah  !  Nevil,  but  recollect 
that  it  is  only  Mr.  Romfrey  who  can  help  to  give  you  your 
Cecilia.  There  is  no  dispensing  with  him.  Postpone  your 
attempt  to  humiliate  —  I  mean,  that  is,  oh!  ISTevil,  what- 
ever you  intend  to  do  to  overcome  your  uncle,  trust  to  time, 
be  friends  with  him  ;  be  a  little  worldly  !  for  her  sake !  to 
ensure  her  happiness  !  " 

Beauchamp  obtained  the  information  that  his  cousin 
Cecil  had  read  out  the  letter  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  at  Mount 
Laurels. 

The  bell  rang. 

**  Do  you  imagine  I  should  sit  at  my  uncle's  table  if  I  did 
not  intend  to  force  him  to  repair  the  wrong  he  has  done  to 
himself  and  to  us  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh !  Nevil,  do  you  not  see  Captain  Baskelett  at  work 
here  ?  '' 

"  What  amends  can  Cecil  Baskelett  make  ?  My  uncle  is 
a  man  of  honour  :  it  is  in  his  power.  There,  I  leave  you  to 
speak  to  him  ;  you  will  do  it  to-night,  after  we  break  up  in 
the  drawing-room.'' 

Rosamund  groaned  :  **  An  apology  to  Dr.  Shrapnel  from 
Mr.  Romfrey !     It  is  an  impossibility,  Nevil  !  utter  ! " 

"So  you  say  to  sit  idle:  but  do  as  I  tell  you." 

He  went  downstairs. 

He  had  barely  reproached  her.  She  wondered  at  that; 
and  then  remembered  his  alien  sad  half-smile  in  quitting 
the  room. 

Rosamund  would  not  present  herself  at  her  lord's  dinner- 
table  when  there  were  any  guests  at  Steynham.  She  pre- 
pared to  receive  Miss  Halkett  in  the  drawing-room,  as  the 
guests  of  the  house  this  evening  chanced  to  be  her  friends. 

Madame  de  Rouaillout's  present  to  her  was  a  photograph 
of  M.  de  Croisnel ,  his  daughter  and  son  in  a  group.  Rosa- 
mund could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  face  of  Renee,  and  she 
put  it  out  of  sight.  But  she  had  looked.  She  was  reduced 
to  look  again. 

Roland  stood  beside  his  father's  chair;  Renee  sat  at  his 
feet,  clasping  his  right  hand.  M.  de  Croisnel's  fallen 
eyelids  and  unshorn  white  chin  told  the  story  of  the  family 


318  BE AUCH amp's   CAREER 

reunion.     He  was  dying:   liis  two  children  were  nursing 
him  to  the  end. 

Decidedly  Cecilia  was  a  more  beautiful  woman  than 
Renee:  but  on  which  does  the  eye  linger  longest,  which 
draws  the  heart?  —  a  radiant  landscape ,  where  the  tall  ripe 
wheat  flashes  between  shadow  and  shine  in  the  stately 
march  of  Summer,  or  the  peep  into  dewy  woodland  on  to 
dark  water  ? 

Dark-eyed  Renee  was  not  beauty  but  attraction;  she 
touched  the  double  chords  within  us  which  are  we  know 
not  whether  harmony  or  discord,  but  a  divine  discord  if 
an  uncertified  harmony,  memorable  beyond  plain  sweet- 
ness or  majesty.  There  are  touches  of  bliss  in  anguish 
that  superhumanize  bliss,  touches  of  mystery  in  simpli- 
city, of  the  eternal  in  the  variable.  These  two  chords  of 
poignant  antiphony  she  struck  throughout  the  range  of  the 
hearts  of  men,  and  strangely  intervolved  them  in  vibrating 
unison.  Only  to  look  at  her  face,  without  hearing  her 
voice,  without  the  charm  of  her  speech,  was  to  feel  it.  On 
Cecilia's  entering  the  drawing-room  sola,  while  the  gentle- 
men drank  claret,  Rosamund  handed  her  the  card  of  the 
photographic  artist  of  Tours,  mentioning  no  names. 

"  I  should  say  the  portrait  is  correct.  A  want  of  spiritu- 
ality," Rosamund  said  critically,  using  one  of  the  insular 
commonplaces,  after  that  manner  of  fastening  upon  what 
there  is  not  in  a  piece  of  Art  or  nature. 

Cecilia's  avidity  to  see  and  study  the  face  preserved  her 
at  a  higher  mark. 

She  knew  the  person  instantly ;  had  no  occasion  to  ask 
who  this  was.  She  sat  over  the  portrait  blushing  burn-- 
ingly :  "  And  that  is  a  brother  ?  "  she  said. 

"  That  is  her  brother  Roland,  and  very  like  her,  except 
in  complexion,"  said  Rosamund. 

Cecilia  murmured  of  a  general  resemblance  in  the  fea- 
tures. Renee  enchained  her.  Though  but  a  sunshadow, 
the  vividness  of  this  French  face  came  out  surprisingly; 
air  was  in  the  nostrils  and  speech  flew  from  the  tremulous 
mouth.  The  eyes  ?  were  they  quivering  with  internal 
light,  or  were  they  set  to  seem  so  in  the  sensitive  strange 
curves  of  the  eyelids  whose  awakened  lashes  appeared  to 
tremble  on  some  borderland  between  lustreful  significance 


THE  FACE   OF  REN^E  319 

and  the  mists  ?  She  caught  at  the  nerves  like  certain 
aoristic  combinations  in  music,  like  tones  of  a  stringed 
instrument  swept  by  the  wind,  enticing,  unseizable.  Yet 
she  sat  there  at  her  father's  feet  gazing  out  into  the  world, 
indifferent  to  spectators,  indifferent  even  to  the  common 
sentiment  of  gracefulness.  Her  left  hand  clasped  his 
right,  and  she  supported  herself  on  the  floor  with  the  other 
hand  leaning  away  from  him,  to  the  destruction  of  conven- 
tional symmetry  in  the  picture.  None  but  a  woman  of 
consummate  breeding  dared  have  done  as  she  did.  It  was 
not  Southern  suppleness  that  saved  her  from  the  charge  of 
harsh  audacity,  but  something  of  the  kind  of  genius  in  her 
mood  which  has  hurried  the  greater  poets  of  sound  and 
speech  to  impose  their  naturalness  upon  accepted  laws,  or 
show  the  laws  to  have  been  our  meagre  limitations. 

The  writer  in  this  country  will,  however,  be  made  safest, 
and  the  excellent  body  of  self-appointed  thongmen,  who 
walk  up  and  down  our  ranks  flapping  their  leathern  straps 
to  terrorize  us  from  experiments  in  imagery,  will  best  be 
satisfied,  by  the  statement  that  she  was  indescribable:  a 
term  that  exacts  no  labour  of  mind  from  him  or  from  them, 
for  it  flows  off  the  pen  as  readily  as  it  fills  a  vacuum. 

That  posture  of  Kenee  displeased  Cecilia  and  fascinated 
her.  In  an  exhibition  of  paintings  she  would  have  passed 
by  it  in  pure  displeasure :  but  here  was  NeviPs  first  love, 
the  woman  who  loved  him;  and  she  was  French.  After  a 
continued  study  of  her  Cecilia's  growing  jealousy  betrayed 
itself  in  a  conscious  rivalry  of  race,  coming  to  the  admis- 
sion that  Englishwomen  cannot  fling  themselves  about  on 
the  floor  without  agonizing  the  graces :  possibly,  too,  they 
cannot  look  singularly  without  risks  in  the  direction  of 
slyness  and  brazen  archness;  or  talk  animatedly  without 
dipping  in  slang.  Conventional  situations  preserve  them 
and  interchange  dignity  with  them ;  still  life  befits  them ; 
pre-eminently  that  judicial  seat  from  which  in  briefest 
speech  they  deliver  their  judgements  upon  their  foreign 
sisters.  Jealousy  it  was  that  plucked  Cecilia  from  her 
majestic  place  and  caused  her  to  envy  in  Renee  things  she 
would  otherwise  have  disapproved. 

At  last  she  had  seen  the  French  lady's  likeness!  The 
effect  of  it  was  a  horrid  trouble  in  Cecilia's  cool  blood, 


320  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

abasement,  a  sense  of  eclipse,  hardly  any  sense  of  deserv- 
ing worthiness :  —  "  What  am  I  but  an  heiress !  "  JSTevil 
had  once  called  her  beautiful;  his  praise  had  given  her 
beauty.  But  what  is  beauty  when  it  is  outshone!  Ask 
the  owners  of  gems.  You  think  them  rich;  they  are 
pining. 

Then,  too,  this  Kenee,  who  looked  electrical  in  repose, 
might  really  love  Nevil  with  a  love  that  sent  her  heart  out 
to  him  in  his  enterprises,  justifying  and  adoring  him, 
piercing  to  the  hero  in  his  very  thoughts.  Would  she  not 
see  that  his  championship  of  the  unfortunate  man  Dr. 
Shrapnel  was  heroic? 

Cecilia  surrendered  the  card  to  Kosamund,  and  it  was 
out  of  sight  when  Beauchamp  stepped  into  the  drawing- 
room.  His  cheeks  were  flushed;  he  had  been  one  against 
three  for  the  better  part  of  an  hour. 

"Are  you  going  to  show  me  the  downs  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ?  "  Cecilia  said  to  him ;  and  he  replied,  "  You  will  have 
to  be  up  early." 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  colonel,  at  Beauchamp's 
heels. 

He  was  volunteering  to  join  the  party  of  two  for  the 
early  morning's  ride  to  the  downs.  Mr.  Romfrey  pressed 
his  shoulder,  saying,  "  There  's  no  third  horse  can  do  it  in 
my  stables." 

Colonel  Halkett  turned  to  him. 

"  I  had  your  promise  to  come  over  the  kennels  with  me 
and  see  how  I  treat  a  cry  of  mad  dog,  which  is  nine1;y-nine 
times  out  of  a  hundred  mad  fool  man,"  Mr.  -Romfrey 
added. 

By  that  the  colonel  knew  he  meant  to  stand  by  Nevil 
still  and  offer  him  his  chance  of  winning  Cecilia. 

Having  pledged  his  word  not  to  interfere,  Colonel  Hal- 
kett submitted,  and  muttered,  "Ah!  the  kennels."  Con- 
sidering however  what  he  had  been  witnessing  of  Nevil's 
behaviour  to  his  uncle,  the  colonel  was  amazed  at  Mr.  Rom- 
frey's  magnanimity  in  not  cutting  him  off  and  disowning 
him. 

"  Why  the  downs  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Why  the  deuce,  colonel  ?  "  A  question  quite  as  reason- 
,able,  and   Mr.    Romfrey  laughed  under  his   breath.     To 


THE  FACE   OF  RENEE  321 

relieve  an  uncertainty  in  Cecilia's  face  that  might  soon 
have  become  confusion,  he  described  the  downs  fronting  the 
paleness  of  earliest  dawn,  and  then  their  arch  and  curve 
and  dip  against  the  pearly  grey  of  the  half -glow ;  and  then, 
among  their  hollows,  lo,  the  illumination  of  the  East  all 
around,  and  up  and  away,  and  a  gallop  for  miles  along  the 
turfy  thymy  rolling  billows,  land  to  left,  sea  to  right, 
below  you.  "  It 's  the  nearest  hit  to  wings  we  can  make, 
Cecilia."  He  surprised  her  with  her  Christian  name, 
which  kindled  in  her  the  secret  of  something  he  expected 
from  that  ride  on  the  downs.  —  Compare  you  the  Alps 
with  them  ?  If  you  could  jump  on  the  back  of  an  eagle, 
you  might.  The  Alps  have  height.  But  the  downs  have 
swiftness.  Those  long  stretching  lines  of  the  downs  are 
greyhounds  in  full  career.  To  look  at  them  is  to  set  the 
blood  racing !  Speed  is  on  the  downs,  glorious  motion, 
odorous  air  of  sea  and  herb,  exquisite  as  in  the  isles  of 
Greece.  And  the  Continental  travelling  ninnies  leave 
England  for  health !  —  run  off  and  forth  from  the  downs  to 
the  steamboat,  the  railway,  the  steaming  hotel,  the  tour- 
ist's shivering  mountain-top,  in  search  of  sensations ! 
There  on  the  downs  the  finest  and  liveliest  are  at  their  bid- 
ding ready  to  fly  through  them  like  hosts  of  angels. 

He  spoke  somewhat  in  that  strain,  either  to  relieve 
Cecilia  or  prepare  the  road  for  Nevil,  not  in  his  ordinary 
style;  on  the  contrary,  with  a  swing  of  enthusiasm  that, 
seemed  to  spring  of  ancient  heart|elt  fervours.  And 
indeed  soon  afterward  he  was  telling  her  that  there  on 
those  downs,  in  full  view  of  Steynham,  he  and  his  wife 
had  first  joined  hands. 

Beauchamp  sat  silent.  Mr.  Komfrey  despatched  orders 
to  the  stables,  and  Rosamund  to  the  kitchen.  Cecilia  was 
rather  dismayed  by  the  formal  preparations  for  the  ride. 
She  declined  the  early  cup  of  coffee.  Mr.  Romfrey  begged 
her  to  take  it.  "  Who  knows  the  hour  when  you  '11  be 
back  ?  "  he  said.     Beauchamp  said  nothing. 

The  room  grew  insufferable  to  Cecilia.  She  would  have 
liked  to  be  wafted  to  her  chamber  in  a  veil,  so  shamefully 
unveiled  did  she  seem  to  be.  But  the  French  lady  would 
have  been  happy  in  her  place  !  Her  father  kissed  her  as 
fathers  do  when  they  hand  the  bride  into  the  travelling- 

21 


322  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

carriage.  His  "  Good-night,  my  darling !  "  was  in  the 
voice  of  a  soldier  on  duty.  For  a  concluding  sign  that  her 
dim  apprehensions  pointed  correctly,  Mr.  liomirey  kissed 
her  on  the  forehead.  She  could  not  understand  how  it  had 
come  to  pass  that  she  found  herself  suddenly  on  this  in- 
cline, precipitated  whither  she  would  fain  be  going,  only 
less  hurriedly,  less  openly,  and  with  her  secret  merely 
peeping,  like  a  dove  in  the  breast. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE    RIDE   IN    THE   WKONG    DIRECTION 

That  pure  opaque  of  the  line  of  downs  ran  luminously 
edged  against  the  pearly  morning  sky,  with  its  dark  land- 
ward face  crepusculine  yet  clear  in  every  combe,  every 
dotting  copse  and  furze-bush,  every  wavy  fall,  and  the 
ripple,  crease,  and  rill-like  descent  of  the  turf.  Beauty 
of  darkness  was  there,  as  well  as  beauty  of  light  above. 

Beauchamp  and  Cecilia  rode  forth  before  the  sun  was 
over  the  line,  while  the  West  and  North-west  sides  of  the 
rolling  downs  were  stamped  with  such  firmness  of  dusky 
feature  as  you  see  on  the  indentations  of  a  shield  of  tar- 
nished silver.  The  mounting  of  the  sun  behind  threw  an 
obscurer  gloom,  and  gradually  a  black  mask  ovei;came 
them,  until  the  rays  shot  among  their  folds  and  yindings, 
and  shadows  rich  as  the  black  pansy,  steady  as  on  a' dial- 
plate  rounded  with  the  hour. 

Mr.  Everard  Eomfrey  emb£aced  this  view  from  Steyn- 
ham  windows,  and  loved  it.  The  lengths  of  gigantic  "  grey- 
hound backs  "  coursing  along  the  South  were  his  vision  of 
delight;  no  image  of  repose  for  him,  but  of  the  life  in 
swiftness.  He  had  known  them  when  the  great  bird  of 
the  downs  was  not  a  mere  tradition,  and  though  he  owned 
conscientiously  to  never  having  beheld  the  bird,  a  certain 
mystery  of  holiness  hung  about  the  region  where  the  bird 
had  been  in  his  time.     There,  too,  with  a  timely  word  he 


THE   EIDE   IN   THE   WRONG   DIRECTION  323 

had  gained  a  wealthy  and  good  wife.     He  had  now  sent 
Nevil  to  do  the  same. 

This  astute  gentleman  had  caught  at  the  idea  of  a  ride 
of  the  young  couple  to  the  downs  with  his  customg,ry 
alacrity  of  perception  as  being  the  very  best  arrangement 
for  hurrying  them  to  the  point.  At  Steynham  Xevil  was 
sure  to  be  howling  all  day  over  his  tumbled  joss  Shrapnel. 
Once  away  in  the  heart  of  the  downs,  and  Cecilia  beside 
him,  it  was  a  matter  of  calculation  that  two  or  three  hours 
of  the  sharpening  air  would  screw  his  human  nature  to 
the  pitch.  In  fact,  unless  each  of  them  was  reluctant, 
they  could  hardly  return  unbetrothed.  Cecilia's  consent 
was  foreshadowed  by  her  submission  in  going :  Mr.  Kom- 
frey  had  noticed  her  fright  at  the  suggestive  formalities 
he  cast  round  the  expedition,  and  felt  sure  of  her.  Taking 
Nevil  for  a  man  who  could  smell  the  perfume  of  a  ripe 
affirmative  on  the  sweetest  of  lips,  he  was  pretty  well  sure 
of  him  likewise.  And  then  a  truce  to  all  that  Radical 
raging  and  hot-pokering  of  the  country !  and  lie  in  peace, 
old  Shrapnel!  and  get  on  your  legs  when  you  can,  and 
offend  no  more;  especially -be  mindful  not  to  let  fly  one 
word  against  a  woman  !  With  Cecilia  for  wife,  and  a  year 
of  marriage  devoted  to  a  son  and  heir,  Nevil  might  be 
expected  to  resume  his  duties  as  a  naval  officer,  and  win 
an  honourable  name  for  the  inheritance  of  the  young  one 
he  kissed. 

There  was  benevolence  in  these  previsions  of  Mr.  Rom- 
frey,  proving  how  good  it  is  for  us  to  bow  to  despotic 
authority,  if  only  we  will  bring  ourselves  unquestioningly 
to  accept  the  previous  deeds  of  the  directing  hand. 

Colonel  Halkett  gave  up  his  daughter  for  lost  when  she 
did  not  appear  at  the  breakfast-table :  for  yet  more  decid- 
edly lost  when  the  luncheon  saw  her  empty  place;  and  as 
time  drew  on  toward  the  dinner-hour,  he  began  to  think 
her  lost  beyond  hope,  embarked  for  good  and  all  with  the- 
madbrain.  Some  little  hope  of  a  dissension  between  the 
pair,  arising  from  the  natural  antagonism  of  her  strong 
sense  to  NeviPs. extravagance,  had  buoyed  him  until  it  was 
evident  that  they  must  have  alighted  at  an  inn  to  eat, 
which  signified  that  they  had  overleaped  the  world  and  its 
hurdles,  and  were  as  dreamy  a  leash  of  lovers  as  ever  made 


324  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

a  dreamland  of  hard  earth.  The  downs  looked  like  dream- 
land through  the  long  afternoon.  They  shone  as  in  a  veil 
of  silk  —  softly  fair,  softly  dark.  No  spot  of  harshness 
was  on  them  save  where  a  quarry  South-westward  gaped 
at  the  evening  sun. 

Eed  light  struck  into  that  round  chalk  maw,  and  the 
green  slopes  and  channels  and  half-circle  hollows  were 
brought  a  mile-stride  nigher  Steynham  by  the  level  beams. 

The  poor  old  colonel  fell  to  a  more  frequent  repetition  of 
the  "Well!"  with  which  he  had  been  unconsciously  ex- 
pressing his  perplexed  mind  in  the  kennels  and  through  the 
covers  during  the  day.  None  of  the  gentlemen  went  to 
dress.  Mr.  Culbrett  was  indoors  conversing  with  Kosa- 
mund  Culling. 

"  What 's  come  to  them  ? "  the  colonel  asked  of  Mr. 
Komfrey,  who  said  shrugging,  "Something  wrong  with 
one  of  the  horses."  It  had  happened  to  him  on  one  occa- 
sion to  set  foot  in  the  hole  of  a  baked  hedgehog  that  had 
furnished  a  repast,  not  without  succulence,  to  some  shep- 
herd of  the  downs.  Such  a  case  might  have  recurred;  it 
was  more  likely  to  cause  an  upset  at  a  walk  than  at  a 
gallop :  or  perhaps  a  shoe  had  been  cast;  and  young  people 
break  no  bones  at  a  walking  fall;  ten  to  one  if  they  do  at 
their  top  speed.  Horses  manage  to  kill  their  seniors  for 
them :  the  young  are  exempt  from  accident. 

Colonel  Halkett  nodded  and  sighed :  "  I  dare  say  they  're 
safe.  It's  that  man  Shrapnel's  letter  —  that  letter,  Rom- 
frey !  A  private  letter,  I  know;  but  I  've  not  heard  Nevil 
disown  the  opinions  expressed  in  it.  I  submit.  It 's  no 
use  resisting.  I  treat  my  daughter  as  a  woman  capable  of 
judging  for  herself.  I  repeat,  I  submit.  I  have  n't  a  word 
against  Nevil  except  on  the  score  of  his  politics.  I  like 
him.  All  I  have  to  say  is,  I  don't  approve  of  a  republican 
and  a  sceptic  for  my  son-in-law.  I  yield  to  you,  and  my 
daughter,  if  she  .  .  .   ! " 

"  I  think  she  does,  colonel.  Marriage  '11  cure  the  fellow. 
Nevil  will  slough  his  craze.  Off!  old  coat.  Cissy  will 
drive  him  in  strings.  *  My  wife  ! '  I  hear  him."  Mr. 
Romfrey  laughed  quietly.  "  It 's  all  *  my  country, '  now. 
The  dog  '11  be  uxorious.     He  wants  fixing;  nothing  worse." 

"  How  he  goes  on  about  Shrapnel !  " 


THE  RIDE  IN  THE  WRONG  DIRECTION  325 

"I  should  n't  think  much  of  him  if  he  didn't." 

"  Yon  're  one  in  a  thousand,  Eomfrey.  I  object  to  seeing 
a  man  worshipped." 

"  It 's  Nevil's  green-sickness,  and  Shrapnel 's  the  god 
of  it." 

"  I  trust  to  heaven  you  're  right.  It  seems  to  me  young 
fellows  ought  to  be  out  of  it  earlier." 

"They  generally  are."  Mr.  Komfrey  named  some  of  the 
processes  by  which  they  are  relieved  of  brain-flightiness, 
adding  philosophically,  "This  way  or  that." 

His  quick  ear  caught  a  sound  of  hoofs  cantering  down 
the  avenue  on  the  Northern  front  of  the  house. 

He  consulted  his  watch.  "  Ten  minutes  to  eight.  Say 
a  quarter-past  for  dinner.     They  're  here,  colonel." 

Mr.  Romfrey  met  Nevil  returning  from  the  stables. 
Cecilia  had  disappeared. 

"  Had  a  good  day  ?  "  said  Mr.  Romfrey. 

Beauchamp  replied,  "I'll  tell  you  of  it  after  dinner," 
and  passed  by  him. 

Mr.  Romfrey  edged  round  to  Colonel  Halkett,  conjectur- 
ing in  his  mind:  They  have  not  hit  it;  as  he  remarked, 
"Breakfast  and  luncheon  have  been  omitted  in  this  day's 
fare,"  which  appeared  to  the  colonel  a  confirmation  of  his 
worst  fears,  or  rather  the  extinction  of  his  last  spark  of 
hope. 

He  knocked  at  his  daughter's  door  in  going  upstairs  to 
dress. 

Cecilia  presented  herself  and  kissed  him. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  he. 

"  By-and-by,  papa, "  she  answered.  "  I  have  a  headache. 
Beg  Mr.  Romfrey  to  excuse  me." 

"  No  news  for  me  ?  " 

She  had  no  news. 

Mrs.  Culling  was  with  her.  The  colonel  stepped  on 
mystified  to  his  room. 

When  the  door  had  closed  Cecilia  turned  to  Rosamund 
and  burst  into  tears.  Rosamund  felt  that  it  must  be  some- 
thing grave  indeed  for  the  proud  young  lady  so  to  betray  a 
troubled  spirit. 

"He  is  ill  —  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  very  ill,"  Cecilia  responded 
to  one  or  two  subdued  inquiries  in  as  clear  a  voice  as  she 
could  command. 


326  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEEK 

"Where  have  you  heard  of  him  ?  "  Kosamund  asked. 

"We  have  been  there." 

"  Bevisham  ?  to  Bevisham  ?  "  Kosamund  was  consider- 
ing the  opinion  Mr.  Eomfrey  would  form  of  the  matter 
from  the  point  of  view  of  his  horses. 

"It  was  Nevil's  wish,"  said  Cecilia. 

"Yes?  and  you  went  with  him,"  Eosamuud  encouraged 
her  to  proceed,  gladdened  at  hearing  her  speak  of  Nevil  by 
that  name;  "you  have  not  been  on  the  downs  at  all  ?  " 

Cecilia  mentioned  a  junction  railway  station  they  had 
ridden  to;  and  thence,  boxing  the  horses,  by  train  to 
Bevisham.  Kosamund  understood  that  some  haunting 
anxiety  had  fretted  Nevil  during  the  night ;  in  the  morn- 
ing he  could  not  withstand  it,  and  he  begged  Cecilia  to 
change  their  destination,  apparently  with  a  vehemence  of 
entreaty  that  had  been  irresistible,  or  else  it  was  utter 
affection  for  him  had  reduced  her  to  undertake  the  distaste- 
ful journey.  She  admitted  that  she  was  not  the  most  sym- 
pathetic companion  Nevil  could  have  had  on  the  way,  either 
going  or  coming.  She  had  not  entered  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
cottage.  Kemaining  on  horseback,  she  had  seen  the  poor 
man  reclining  in  his  garden  chair.  Mr.  Lydiard  was 
with  him,  and  also  his  ward.  Miss  Denham,  who  had  been 
summoned  by  telegraph  by  one  of  the  servants  from  Swit- 
zerland. And  Cecilia  had  heard  Nevil  speak  of  his  uncle 
to  her,  and  too  humbly,  she  hinted.  ~Nox  had  the  expres- 
sion of  Miss  Denham 's  countenance  in  listening  to  him 
pleased  her;  but  it  was  true  that  a  heavily  burdened  heart 
cannot  be  expected  to  look  pleasing.  On  the  way  home 
Cecilia  had  been  compelled  in  some  degree  to  defend  Mr. 
Komfrey.  Blushing  through  her  tears  at  the  remembrance 
of  a  past  emotion  that  had  been  mixed  with  foresight,  she 
confessed  to  Kosamund  she  thought  it  now  too  late  to  pre- 
vent a  rupture  between  Nevil  and  his  uncle.  Had  some 
one  whom  Nevil  trusted  and  cared  for  taken  counsel  with 
him  and  advised  him  before  uncle  and  nephew  met  to 
discuss  this  most  unhappy  matter,  then  there  might  have 
been  hope.  As  it  was,  the  fate  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  had 
gained  entire  possession  of  Nevil.  Every  retort  of  his 
uncle's  in  reference  to  it  rose  up  in  him :  he  used  language 
of  contempt  neighbouring  abhorrence:   he   stipulated  for 


THE   RIDE   IN   THE   WRONG   DIRECTION  327 

one  sole  thing  to  win  back  his  esteem  for  his  uncle;  and 
that  was,  the  apology  to  Dr.  Shrapnel. 

"And  to-night,"  Cecilia  concluded,  "he  will  request  Mr. 
Romfrey  to  accompany  him  to  Bevisham  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, to  make  the  apology  in  person.  He  will  not  accept 
the  slightest  evasion.  He  thinks  Dr.  Shrapnel  may  die, 
and  the  honour  of  the  family  —  what  is  it  he  says  of  it  ?  " 
Cecilia  raised  her  eyes  to  the  ceiling,  while  Rosamund 
blinked  in  impatience  and  grief,  just  apprehending  the 
alien  state  of  the  young  lady's  mind  in  her  absence  of 
recollection,  as  well  as  her  bondage  in  the  effort  to  recol- 
lect accurately. 

"  Have  you  not  eaten  any  food  to-day,  Miss  Halkett  ?  " 
she  said;  for  it  might  be  the  want  of  food  which  had 
broken  her  and  changed  her  manner. 

Cecilia  replied  that  she  had  ridden  for  an  hour  to  Mount 
Laurels. 

"Alone?  Mr.  Romfrey  must  not  hear  of  that,"  said 
Rosamund. 

Cecilia  consented  to  lie  down  on  her  bed.  She  declined 
the  dainties  Rosamund  pressed  on  her.  She  was  feverish 
with  a  deep  and  unconcealed  affliction,  and  behaved  as  if 
her  pride  had  gone.  But  if  her  pride  had  gone  she  would 
have  eased  her  heart  by  sobbing  outright.  A  similar  divi- 
sion harassed  her  as  when  her  friend  Nevil  was  the  candi- 
date for  Bevisham.  She  '  condemned  his  extreme  wrath 
with  his  uncle,  yet  was  attracted  and  enchained  by  the  fire 
of  passionate  attachment  which  aroused  it;  and  she  was 
conscious  that  she  had  but  shown  obedience  to  his  wishes 
throughout  the  day,  not  sympathy  with  his  feelings. 
Under  cover  of  a  patient  desire  to  please  she  had  nursed 
irritation  and  jealousy;  the  degradation  of  the  sense  of 
jealousy  increasing  the  irritation.  Having  consented  to 
the  ride  to  Dr.  Shrapnel,  should  she  not,  to  be  consistent, 
have  dismounted  there  ?  O  half  heart !  A  whole  one, 
though  it  be  an  erring,  like  that  of  the  French  lady,  does 
at  least  live,  and  has  a  history,  and  makes  music :  but  the 
faint  and  uncertain  is  jarred  in  action,  jarred  in  raemorj^, 
ever  behind  the  day  and  in  the  shadow  of  it !  Cecilia  re- 
viewed herself:  jealous,  disappointed,  ve:!ted,  ashamed, 
she  had  been  all  day  a  graceless  companion,  a  bad  actress : 


328  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

and  at  the  day's  close  she  was  loving  jSTevil  the  better  for 
what  had  dissatisfied,  distressed,  and  wounded  her.  She 
was  loving  him  in  emulation  of  his  devotediiess  to  another 
person:  and  that  other  was  a  revolutionary  common 
people's  doctor!  an  infidel,  a  traitor  to  his  country's  dear- 
est interests!  But  Nevil  loved  him,  and  it  had  become 
impossible  for  her  not  to  covet  the  love,  or  to  think  of  the 
old  offender  without  the  halo  cast  by  Nevil's  attachment 
being  upon  him.  So  intensely  was  she  moved  by  her  in- 
tertwisting reflections  that  in  an  access  of  bodily  fever 
she  stood  up  and  moved  before  the  glass,  to  behold  the 
image  of  the  woman  who  could  be  the  victim  of  tl^ese  child- 
ish emotions:  and  no  wonderful  contrast  struck  her  eyes; 
she  appeared  to  herself  as  poor  and  small  as  they.  How 
could  she  aspire  to  a  man  like  Nevil  Beauchamp  ?  If  he 
had  made  her  happy  by  wooing  her,  she  would  not  have 
adored  him  as  she  did  now.  He  likes  my  hair,  she  said, 
smoothing  it  out,  and  then  pressing  her  temples,  like  one 
insane.  Two  minutes  afterward  she  was  telling  Eosamund 
her  head  ached  less. 

"  This  terrible  Dr.  Shrapnel ! "  Rosamund  exclaimed,  but 
reported  that  no  loud  voices  were  raised  in  the  dining-room. 

Colonel  Halkett  came  to  see  his  daughter,  full  of  anxiety 
and  curiosity.  Affairs  had  been  peaceful  below,  for  he 
was  ignorant  of  the  expedition  to  Bevisham.  On  hearing 
of  it  he  frowned,  questioned  Cecilia  as  to  whether  she  had 
set  foot  on  that  man's  grounds,  then  said :  "  Ah  !  well,  we 
leave  to-morrow :  I  must  go,  I  have  business  at  home ;  I 
can't  delay  it.  I  sanctioned  no  calling  there,  nothing  of 
the  kind.  From  Steynham  to  Bevisham  ?  Goodness,  it 's 
rank  madness.     I  'm  not  astonished  you  're  sick  and  ill." 

He  waited  till  he  was  assured  Cecilia  had  no  special 
matter  to  relate,  and  recommending  her  to  drink  the  tea 
Mrs.  Culling  had  made  for  her,  and  then  go  to  bed  and 
sleep,  he  went  down  to  the  drawing-room,  charged  with 
the  worst  form  of  hostility  toward  Nevil,  the  partly 
diplomatic. 

Cecilia  smiled  at  her  father's  mention  of  sleep.  She 
was  in  the  contest  of  the  two  men,  however  inanimately 
she  might  be  lying  overhead,  and  the  assurance  in  her 
mind  that  neither  of  them  would  give  ground,  so  similar 


PURSUIT  OF  THE  APOLOGY   OF  ME.   ROMFREY      329 

were  they  in  their  tenacity  of  will,  dissimilar  in  all  else, 
dragged  her  this  way  and  that  till  she  swayed  lifeless 'be- 
tween them.'  One  may  be  as  a  weed  of  the  sea  while  one's 
fate  is  being  decided.  To  love  is  to  be  on  the  sea,  out  of 
sight  of  land :  to  love  a  man  like  Nevil*  Beauchamp  is  to 
be  on  the  sea  in  tempest.  Still  to  persist  in  loving  would 
be  noble,  and  but  for  this  humiliation  of  utter  helplessness 
an  enviable  power.  Her  thoughts  ran  thus  in  shame  and 
yearning  and  regret,  dimly  discerning  where  her  heart 
failed  in  the  strength  which  was  Nevil's,  though  it  was  a 
full  heart,  faithful  and  not  void  of  courage.  But  he  never 
brooded,  he  never  blushed  from  insufficiency  —  the  faint- 
ness  of  a  desire,  the  callow  passion  that  cannot  fly  and 
feed  itself:  he  never  tottered;  he  walked  straight  to  his 
mark.  She  set  up  his  image  and  Renee's,  and  cowered 
under  the  heroical  shapes  till  she  felt  almost  extinct. 
With  her  weak  limbs  and  head  worthlessly  paining,  the 
little  infantile  I  within  her  ceased  to  wail,  dwindled 
beyond  sensation.  Rosamund,  waiting  on  her  in  the  place 
of  her  maid,  saw  two  big  drops  come  through  her  closed 
eyelids,  and  thought  that  if  it  could  be  granted  to  Nevil  to 
look  for  a  moment  on  this  fair  and  proud  young  lady^s 
loveliness  in  abandonment,  it  would  tame,  melt,  and  save 
him.  The  Gods  presiding  over  custom  do  not  permit  such 
renovating  sights  to  men. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

PURSUIT  OP  THE  APOLOGY  OP  MB.  ROMPRET  TO 
DR.  SHRAPNEL 

The  contest,  which  was  an  alternation  of  hard  hitting 
and  close  wrestling,  had  recommenced  when  Colonel  Hal- 
kett  stepped  into  the  drawing-room. 

"  Colonel,  I  find  they  Ve  been  galloping  to  Bevisham  and 
back,"  said  Mr.  Romfrey. 

"I  've  heard  of  it,"  the  colonel  replied.  Not  perceiving 
a  sign  of  dissatisfaction  on  his  friend's  face,  he  continued: 
"To  that  man  Shrapnel." 


330  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"Cecilia  did  not  dismount,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  You  took  her  to  that  man's  gate.  It  was  not  with  my 
sanction.     You  know  my  ideas  of  the  man." 

"If  you  were  to  see  him  now,  colonel,  I  don't  think  you 
would  speak  harshly  of  him." 

"We  're  not  obliged  to  go  and  look  on  men  who  have  had 
their  measure  dealt  them." 

"Barbarously,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Mr.  Romfrey  in  the  most  placid  manner  took  a  chair. 
"Windy  talk,  that!"  he  said. 

Colonel  Halkett  seated  himself.  Stukely  Culbrett  turned 
a  sheet  of  manuscript  he  was  reading. 

Beauchamp  began  a  caged  lion's  walk  on  the  rug  under 
the  mantelpiece. 

"  I  shall  not  spare  you  from  hearing  what  I  think  of  it, 
sir." 

"We  've  had  what  you  think  of  it  twice  over,"  said  Mr. 
Romfrey.  "I  suppose  it  was  the  first  time  for  informa- 
tion, the  second  time  for  emphasis,  and  the  rest  counts  to 
keep  it  alive  in  your  recollection." 

"This  is  what  you  have  to  take  to  heart,  sir;  that  Dr. 
Shrapnel  is  now  seriously  ill." 

"I  'm  sorry  for  it,  and  I  '11  pay  the  doctor's  bill." 

"You  make  it  hard  for  me  to  treat  you  with  respect." 

"Fire  away.  Those  Radical  friends  of  yours  have  to 
learn  a  lesson,  and  it 's  worth  a  purse  to  teach  them  that  a 
lady,  however  feeble  she  may  seem  to  them,  is  exactly  of 
the  strength  of  the  best  man  of  her  acquaintance." 

"That 's  well  said  !  "  came  from  Colonel  Halkett. 

Beauchamp  stared  at  him,  amazed  by  the  commendation 
of  empty  language. 

"You  acted  in  error;  barbarously,  but  in  error,"  he 
addressed  his  uncle. 

"And  you  have  got  a  fine  topic  for  mouthing,"  Mr.  Rom- 
frey rejoined. 

"You  mean  to  sit  still  under  Dr.  Shrapnel's  forgive- 
ness ?  " 

"He  's  taken  to  copy  the  Christian  religion,  has  he  ?" 

"You  know  you  were  deluded  when  you  struck  him." 

"Not  a  whit." 

"  Yes,  you  know  it  now :  Mrs.  Culling  —  " 


PtJKSUIT   OF   THE   APOLOGY   OF   MR.    RO:SIFREY      831 

"Drag  in  no  woman,  Nevil  Beauchamp! '' 

"She  has  confessed  to  you  that  Dr.  Shrapnel  neither 
insulted  her  nor  meant  to  ruffle  her." 

"She  has  done  no  such  nonsense." 

"If  she  has  not!  —  but  I  trust  her  to  have  done  it." 

"You  play  the  trumpeter,  you  terrorize  her." 

"Into  opening  her  lips  wider;  nothing  else.  I  '11  have 
the  truth  from  her,  and  no  mincing:  and  from  Cecil 
Baskelett  and  Palmet." 

"  Give  Cecil  a  second  licking,  if  you  can,  and  have  him 
off  to  Shrapnel." 

"  You  !  "  cried  Beauchamp. 

At  this  juncture  Stukely  Culbrett  closed  the  manuscript 
in  his  hands,  and,  holding  it  out  to  Beauchamp,  said: 
"Here's  your  letter,  Nevil.  It's  tolerably  hard  to  de- 
cipher. It 's  mild  enough;  it 's  middling  good  pulpit.  I 
like  it." 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ? "  Colonel  Halkett  asked 
him. 

"A  letter  of  his  friend  Dr.  Shrapnel  on  the  Country. 
Bead  a  bit,  colonel." 

"  I  ?  That  letter !  Mild ,  do  you  call  it  ?  "  The  colonel 
started  back  his  chair  in  declining  to  touch  the  letter. 

"  Try  it,"  said  Stukely.  "It 's  the  letter  they  have  been 
making  the  noise  about.  It  ought  to  be  printed.  There  's 
a  hit  or  two  at  the  middle-class  that  I  should  like  to  see  in 
print.  It 's  really  not  bad  pulpit;  and  I  suspect  that  what 
you  object  to,  colonel,  is  only  the  dust  of  a  well-thumped 
cushion.  Shrapnel  thumps  with  his  fist.  He  does  n't  say 
much  that 's  new.  If  the  parsons  were  men  they'd  be  say- 
ing it  every  Sunday.  If  they  did,  colonel,  I  should  hear 
you  saying  amen." 

"Wait  till  they  do  say  it." 

"  That 's  a  long  stretch.  They  're  turncocks  of  one 
Water-company  —  to  wash  the  greasy  citizens  !  " 

"You  're  keeping  Nevil  on  the  gape,"  said  Mr.  Eomfrey, 
with  a  whimsical  shrewd  cast  of  the  eye  at  Beauchamp, 
who  stood  alert  not  to  be  foiled,  arrow-like  in  look  and 
readiness  to  repeat  his  home-shot.  Mr.  Romfrey  wanted 
to  hear  more  of  that  unintelligible  "  You !  "  of  Beau- 
champ's.     But  Stukely  Culbrett  intended  that  the  latter 


832 

should  be  foiled,  and  lie  continued  his  diversion  from  the 
angry  subject. 

"  We  '11  drop  the  sacerdotals,"  he  said.  "  They  're  behind 
a  veil  for  us,  and  so  are  we  for  them.  I'm  with  you, 
colonel ;  I  would  n't  have  them  persecuted ;  they  sting  fear- 
fully when  whipped.  No  one  listens  to  them  now  except 
the  class  that  goes  to  sleep  under  them,  to  *  set  an  exam- 
ple '  to  the  class  that  can't  understand  them.  Shrapnel  is 
like  the  breeze  shaking  the  turf -grass  outside  the  church- 
doors;  a  trifle  fresher.     He  knocks  nothing  down." 

"He  can't!  "  ejaculated  the  colonel. 

"  He  sermonizes  to  shake,  that 's  all.  I  know  the  kind 
of  man." 

"  Thank  heaven,  it 's  not  a  commoif  species  in  England!  " 

"Common  enough  to  be  classed." 

Beauchamp  struck  through  the  conversation  of  the  pair  : 
"Can  I  see  you  alone  to-night,  sir,  or  to-morrow  morning  ?" 

"You  may  catch  me  where  you  can,"  was  Mr.  Komfrey's 
answer. 

*' Where  's  that?  It's  for  your  sake  and  mine,  not  for 
Dr.  Shrapnel's.  I  have  to  speak  to  you,  and  must.  You 
have  done  your  worst  with  him;  you  can't  undo  it.  You 
have  to  think  of  your  honour  as  a  gentleman.  I  intend  to 
treat  you  with  respect,  but  wolf  is  the  title  now,  whether 
I  say  it  or  not." 

"  Shrapnel 's  a  rather  long-legged  sheep  ?  " 

"He  asks  for  nothing  from  you." 

"He  would  have  got  nothing,  at  a  cry  of  peccavi !  " 

"He  was  innocent,  perfectly  blameless;  he  would  not  lie 
to  save  himself.  You  mistook  that  for  —  But  you  were 
an  engine  shot  along  a  line  of  rails.  He  does  you  the  jus- 
tice to  say  you  acted  in  error." 

"And  you  're  his  parrot."  ^ 

"He  pardons  you." 

"Ha!  t'other  cheek!" 

"You  went  on  that  brute's  errand  in  ignorance.  Will 
you  keep  to  the  character  now  you  know  the  truth  ?  Hesi- 
tation about  it  doubles  the  infamy.  An  old  man !  the  best 
of  men  !  the  kindest  and  truest!  the  most  unselfish!  " 

"He  tops  me  by  half  a  head,  and  he  's  my  junior." 

Beauchamp  suffered  himself  to  give  out  a  groan  of  sick 
derision:  "Ah!" 


PURSUIT   OF   THE  APOLOGY   OF  MR.  ROMFREY      333 

"And  it  was  no  joke  holding  him  tight,"  said  Mr.  Kom- 
frey;  "I  'd  as  lief  snap  an  ash.  The  fellow"  (he  leaned 
round  to  Colonel  Halkett)  "  must  be  a  fellow  of  a  fine  con- 
stitution. And  he  took  his  punishment  like  a  man.  I  've 
known  worse :  and  far  worse :  gentlemen  by  birth.  There  's 
the  choice  of  taking  it  upright  or  fighting  like  a  rabbit  with 
a  weasel  in  his  hole.  Leave  him  to  think  it  over,  he  '11 
come  right.  I  think  no  harm  of  him,  I  've  no  animus.  A 
man  must  have  his  lesson  at  some  time  of  life.  I  did 
what  I  had  to  do." 

"Look  here,  Nevil,"  Stukely  Culbrett  checked  Beau- 
champ  in  season:  "I  beg  to  inquire  what  Dr.  Shrapnel 
means  by  *  the  people. '  We  have  in  our  country  the  nobles 
and  the  squires,  and  after  them,  as  I  understand  it,  the 
people :  that 's  to  say,  the  middle-class  and  the  working-class 
—  fat  and  lean.  I  'm  quite  with  Shrapnel  when  he  lashes 
the  fleshpots.  They  want  it,  and  they  don't  get  it  from 
*  their  organ, '  the  Press.  I  fancy  you  and  I  agree  about 
their  organ ;  the  dismallest  organ  that  ever  ground  a  hack- 
neyed set  of  songs  and  hymns  to  madden  the  thoroughfares." 
"The  Press  of  our  country!  "  interjected  Colonel  Hal- 
kett in  moaning  parenthesis. 

"It's  the  week-day  Parson  of  the  middle-class,  colonel. 
They  have  their  thinking  done  for  them  as  the  Chinese 
have  their  dancing.  But,  Nevil,  your  Dr.  Shrapnel  seems 
to  treat  the  traders  as  identical  with  the  aristocracy  in 
opposition  to  his  *  people.'  The  traders  are  the  cursed 
middlemen,  bad  friends  of  the  *  people,'  and  infernally 
treacherous  to  the  nobles  till  money  hoists  them.  It 's 
they  who  pull  down  the  country.  They  hold  up  the  nobles 
to  the  hatred  of  the  democracy,  and  the  democracy  to 
scare  the  nobles.  One  's  when  they  want  to  swallow  a 
privilege,  and  the  other  's  when  they  want  to  ring-fence 
their  gains.  How  is  it  Shrapnel  does  n't  expose  the  trick  ? 
He  must  see  through  it.  I  like  that  letter  of  his.  People 
is  one  of  your  Kadical  big  words  that  burst  at  a  query.  He 
can't  mean  Quince,  and  Bottom,  and  Staveling,  Christo- 
pher Sly,  Jack  Cade,  Caliban,  and  poor  old  Hodge  ?  No, 
no,  Nevil.  Our  clowns  are  the  stupidest  in  Europe. 
They  can't  cook  their  meals.  They  can't  spell;  they  can 
scarcely  speak.     They  have  n't  a  jig  in  their  legs.     And  I 


334  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

believe  they're  losing  their  grin!  They're  nasty  when 
their  blood's  up.  Shakespeare's  Cade  tells  you  what  he 
thought  of  Radicalizing  the  people.  '  And  as  for  your 
mother,  I  '11  make  her  a  duke;  '  that 's  one  of  their  songs. 
The  word  people,  in  England,  is  a  dyspeptic  agitator's 
dream  when  he  falls  nodding  over  the  red  chapter  of  French " 
history.  Who  won  the  great  liberties  for  England  ?  My 
book  says,  the  nobles.  And  who  made  the  great  stand 
later?  —  the  squires.  What  have  the  middlemen  done  but  * 
bid  for  the  people  they  despise  and  fear,  dishonour  us 
abroad  and  make  a  hash  of  us  at  home?  Shrapnel  sees 
that.  Only  he  has  got  the  word  people  in  his  mouth. 
The  people  of  England,  my  dear  fellow,  want  heading. 
Since  the  traders  obtained  power  we  have  been  a  country 
on  all  fours.  Of  course  Shrapnel  sees  it:  I  say  so.  But 
talk  to  him  and  teach  him  where  to  look  for  the  rescue." 

Colonel  Halkett  said  to  Stukely:  "If  you  have  had  a 
clear  idea  in  what  you  have  just  spoken,  my  head  's  no 
place  for  it!" 

Stukely's  unusually  lengthy  observations  had  somewhat 
heated  him,  and  he  protested  with  earnestness:  "It  was 
pure  Tory,  my  dear  colonel." 

But  the  habitually  and  professedly  cynical  should  not 
deliver  themselves  at  length:  for  as  soon  as  they  miss 
their  customary  incision  of  speech  they  are  apt  to  aim  to 
recover  it  in  loquacity,  and  thusit  may  be  that  the  survey 
of  their  ideas  becomes  disordered./ 

Mr.  Culbrett  endangered  his  reputation  for  epigram  in  a 
good  cause,  it  shall  be  said. 

These  interruptions  were  torture  to  Beauchamp.  Never- 
theless the  end  was  gained.     He  sank  into  a  chair  silent. 

Mr.  Romfrey  wished  to  have  it  out  with  his  nephew,  of 
whose  comic  appearance  as  a  man  full  of  thunder,  and 
occasionally  rattling,  yet  all  the  while  trying  to  be  deco- 
rous and  politic,  he  was  getting  tired.  He  foresaw  that  a 
tussle  between  them  in  private  would  possibly  be  too  hot 
for  his  temper,  admirably  under  control  though  it  was. 

"Why  not  drag  Cecil  to  Shrapnel?"  he  said,  for  a 
provocation. 

Beauchamp  would  not  be  goaded. 

Colonel  Halkett  remarked  that  he  would  have  to  leave 


PURSUIT   OF  THE  APOLOGY   OF  MR.   ROMFREY      335 

Steynham  the  next  day.  His  host  remonstrated  with  him. 
The  colonel  said,  "Early."  He  had  very  particular  busi- 
ness at  home.  He  was  positive,  and  declined  every  in- 
ducement to  stay.  Mr.  Romfrey  glanced  at  Nevil, 
thinking.  You  poor  fool !  And  then  he  determined  to  let 
the  fellow  have  five  minutes  alone  with  him. 
..  This  occurred  at  midnight,  in  that  half -armoury,  half- 
library,  which  was  his  private  room. 

Rosamund  heard  their  voices  below.  She  cried  out  to 
herself  that  it  was  her  doing,  and  blamed  her  beloved,  and 
her  master,  and  Dr.  Shrapnel,  in  the  breath  of  her  self- 
recrimination.  The  demagogue,  the  over-punctilious  gen- 
tleman, the  faint  lover,  surely  it  must  be  reason  wanting 
in  the  three  for  each  of  them  in  turn  to  lead  the  other,  by 
an  excess  of  some  sort  of  the  quality  constituting  their 
men's  natures,  to  wreck  a  calm  life  and  stand  in  conten- 
tion !  ^  Had  Shrapnel  been  commonly  reasonable  he  would 
have  apologized  to  Mr.  E-omfrey,  or  had  Mr.  Romfrey,  he 
would  not  have  resorted  to  force  to  punish  the  supposed 
offender,  or  had  Nevil,  he  would  have  held  his  peace  until 
he  had  gained  his  bride.  As  it  was,  the  folly  of  the  three 
knocked  at  her  heart,  uniting  to  bring  the  heavy  accusation 
against  one  poor  woman,  quite  in  the  old  way :  the  Who 
is  she  ?  of  the  mocking  Spaniard  at  mention  of  a  social 
catastrophe.  Rosamund  had  a  great  deal  of  the  pride  of 
her  sex,  and  she  resented  any  slur  on  it.  She  felt  almost 
superciliously  toward  Mr.  Romfrey  and  Nevil  for  their  not 
taking  hands  to  denounce  the  plotter,  Cecil  Baskelett. 
They  seemed  a  pair  of  victims  to  him,  nearly  as  much  so 
as  the  wretched  man  Shrapnel.  It  was  their  senselessness 
which  made  her  guilty !  And  simply  because  she  had 
uttered  two  or  three  exclamations  of  dislike  of  a  revolu- 
tionary and  infidel  she  was  compelled  to  groan  under  her 
present  oppression!  Is  there  anything  to  be  hoped  of 
men  ?  Rosamund  thought  bitterly  of  Nevil's  idea  of  their 
progress.  Heaven  help  them  !  But  the  unhappy  creatures 
have  ceased  to  look  to  a  heaven  for  help. 

We  see  the  consequence  of  it  in  this  Shrapnel  compli- 
cation. 

Three  men :  and  one  struck  down ;  the  other  defeated  in 
his   benevolent   intentions;    the   third   sacrificing  fortune 


336  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

and  happiness :  all  three  owing  their  mischance  to  one  or 
other  of  the  vague  ideas  disturbing  men's  heads  !  Where 
shall  we  look  for  mother  wit  ?  —  or  say,  common  suckling's 
instinct  ?    Not  to  men,  thought  Eosamund. 

She  was  listening  to  the  voices  of  Mr.  Eomfrey  and  Beau- 
champ  in  a  fever.  Ordinarily  the  lord  of  Steynham  was 
not  out  of  his  bed  later  than  twelve  o'clock  at  night.  His 
door  opened  at  half-past  one.  Not  a  syllable  was  ex- 
changed by  the  couple  in  the  hall.  They  had  fought  it 
out.  Mr.  Eomfrey  came  upstairs  alone,  and  on  the  closing 
of  his  chamber-door  she  slipped  down  to  Beauchamp  and 
had  a  dreadful  hour  with  him  that  subdued  her  disposition 
to  sit  in  judgement  upon  men.  The  unavailing  attempt  to 
move  his  uncle  had  wrought  him  to  the  state  in  which  pas- 
sionate thoughts  pass  into  speech  like  heat  to  flame.  Eosa- 
mund strained  her  mental  sight  to  gain  a  conception  of  his 
prodigious  horror  of  the  treatment  of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  that 
she  might  think  him  sane :  and  to  retain  a  vestige  of  com- 
fort in  her  bosom  she  tried  to  moderate  and  make  light  of 
as  much  as  she  could  conceive.  Between  the  two  efforts 
she  had  no  sense  but  that  of  helplessness.  Once  more  she 
was  reduced  to  promise  that  she  would  speak  the  whole 
truth  to  Mr.  Eomfrey,  even  to  the  fact  that  she  had  expe- 
rienced a  common  woman's  jealousy  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  in- 
fluence, and  had  alluded  to  him  jealously,  spitefully,  and 
falsely.  There  was  no  mercy  in  Beauchamp.  He  was  for 
action  at  any  cost,  with  all  the  forces  he  could  gather,  and 
without  delays.  He  talked  of  Cecilia  as  his  uncle's  bribe 
to  him.  Eosamund  could  hardly  trust  her  ears  when  he 
informed  her  he  had  told  his  uncle  of  his  determination  to 
compel  him  to  accomplish  the  act  of  penitence.  "  Was  it 
prudent  to  say  it,  Nevil?"  she  asked.  But,  as  in  his 
politics,  he  disdained  prudence.  A  monstrous  crime  had 
been  committed,  involving  the  honour  of  the  family :  —  no 
subtlety  of  insinuation,  no  suggestion,  could  wean  him 
from  the  fixed  idea  that  the  apology  to  Dr.  Shrapnel  must 
be  spoken  by  his  uncle  in  person. 

"If  one  could  only  imagine  Mr.  Eomfrey  doing  it!" 
Eosamund  groaned. 

"  He  shall :  and  you  will  help  him,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  If  you  loved  a  woman  half  as  much  as  you  do  that  man  ! " 


PURSUIT   OF  THE  APOLOGY  OF  MR.    ROMFRBY      337 

"  If  I  knew  a  woman  as  good,  as  wise,  as  noble  as  he !  " 

"You  are  losing  her." 

"  You  expect  me  to  go  through  ceremonies  of  courtship 
at  a  time  like  this !  If  she  cares  for  me  she  will  feel  with 
me.  Simple  compassion  —  But  let  Miss  Halkett  be.  I  'm 
afraid  I  overtasked  her  in  taking  her  to  Bevisham.  She 
remained  outside  the  garden.  Ma'am,  she  is  unsullied  by 
contact  with  a  single  shrub  of  Dr.  ShrapnePs  territory." 

"Do  not  be  so  bitterly  ironical,  Nevil.  You  have  not 
seen  her  as  I  have." 

Rosamund  essayed  a  tender  sketch  of  the  fair  young 
lady,  and  fancied  that  she  drew  forth  a  sigh ;  she  would 
have  coloured  the  sketch,  but  he  commanded  her  to  hurry 
off  to  bed,  and  think  of  her  morning's  work. 

A  commission  of  which  we  feel  we  can  accurately  fore- 
cast the  unsuccessful  end  is  not  likely  to  be  undertaken 
with  an  ardour  that  might  perhaps  astound  the  presageing 
mind  with  unexpected  issues.  Rosamund  fulfilled  hers  in 
the  style  of  one  who  has  learnt  a  lesson,  and,  exactly  as 
she  had  anticipated,  Mr.  Romfrey  accused  her  of  coming 
to  him  from  a  conversation  with  that  fellow  Nevil  over- 
night. He  shrugged  and  left  the  house  for  his  morning's 
walk  across  the  iSelds. 

Colonel  Halkett  and  Cecilia  beheld  him  from  the 
breakfast-room  returning  with  Beauchamp,  who  had  way- 
laid him  and  was  hammering  his  part  in  the  now-endless 
altercation.  It  could  be  descried  at  any  distance;  and 
how  fine  was  Mr.  Romfrey's  bearing !  —  truly  noble  by 
contrast,  as  of  a  grave  big  dog  worried  by  a  small  barking 
dog.  There  is  to  an  unsympathetic  observer  an  intense 
vexatiousness  in  the  exhibition  of  such  pertinacity.  To  a 
soldier  accustomed  at  a  glance  to  estimate  powers  of  attack 
and  defence,  this  repeated  puny  assailing  of  a  fortress 
that  required  years  of  siege  was  in  addition  ridiculous. 
Mr.  Romfrey  appeared  impregnable,  and  Beauchamp  mad. 

"He  's  foaming  again!  "  said  the  colonel,  and  was  only 
ultra-pictorial.  "Before  breakfast!"  was  a  further  slur 
on  Beauchamp. 

Mr.  Romfrey  was  elevated  by  the  extraordinary  comi- 
cality of  the  notion  .of  the  proposed  apology  to  heights  of 
humour  beyond  laughter,  whence  we   see  the  unbounded 


338  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

capacity  of  the  general  man  for  folly,  and  rather  commis* 
erate  than  deride  him.  He  was  quite  untroubled.  It 
demanded  a  steady  view  of  the  other  side  of  the  case  to 
suppose  of  one  whose  control  of  his  temper  was  perfect, 
that  he  could  be  in  the  wrong.  He  at  least  did  not  think 
so,  and  Colonel  Halkett  relied  on  his  common  sense. 
Beauchamp's  brows  were  smouldering  heavily,  except 
when  he  had  to  talk.  He  looked  paleish  and  worn,  and 
said  he  had  been  up  early.  Cecilia  guessed  that  he  had 
not  been  to  bed. 

It  was  dexterously  contrived  by  her  host,  in  spite  of  the 
colonel's  manifest  anxiety  to  keep  them  asunder,  that  she 
should  have  some  minutes  with  Beauchamp  out  in  the 
gardens.  Mr.  Romfrey  led  them  out,  and  then  led  the 
colonel  away  to  offer  him  a  choice  of  pups  of  rare  breed. 

"Nevil,"  said  Cecilia,  "you  will  not  think  it  presump- 
tion in  me  to  give  you  advice  ? " 

Her  counsel  to  him  was,  that  he  should  leave  Steynham 
immediately,  and  trust  to  time  for  his  uncle  to  reconsider, 
his  conduct. 

Beauchamp  urged  the  counter-argument  of  the  stain  on 
the  family  honour. 

She  hinted  at  expediency;  he  frankly  repudiated  it. 

The  downs  faced  them,  where  the  heavenly  vast  "  might 
have  been  "  of  yesterdaj^  wandered  thinner  than  a  shadow 
of  to-day;  weaving  a  story  without  beginning,  crisis,  or 
conclusion,  flowerless  and  fruitless,  but  with  something  of 
infinite  in  it  sweeter  to  brood  on  than  the  future  of  her 
life  to  Cecilia. 

"If  meanwhile  Dr.  Shrapnel  should  die,  and  repentance 
comes  too  late  !  "  said  Beauchamp. 

She  had  no  clear  answer  to  that,  save  the  hope  of  its 
being  an  unfounded  apprehension.  "As  far  as  it  is  in 
my  power,  Nevil,  I  will  avoid  injustice  to  him  in  my 
thoughts." 

He  gazed  at  her  thankfully.  "Well,"  said  he,  "that 's 
like  sighting  the  cliffs.  But  I  don't  feel  home  round  me 
while  the  colonel  is  so  strangely  prepossessed.  For  a  high- 
spirited  gentleman  like  your  father  to  approve,  or  at  least 
accept,  an  act  so  barbarous  is  incomprehensible.  Speak 
to  him,  Cecilia,  will  you  ?     Let  him  know  your  ideas." 


PURSUIT   OF   THE  APOLOGY  OF  ME.   ROMFEEY      339 

She  asseuted.  He  said  instantly,  "Persuade  him  to 
speak  to  my  uncle  Everard." 

She  was  tempted  to  smile. 

"I  must  do  only  what  I  think  wise,  if  I  am  to  be  of 
service,  Nevil." 

"  True,  but  paint  that  scene  to  him.  An  old  man,  utterly 
defenceless,  making  no  defence !  a  cruel  error  !  The  colonel 
can't,  or  he  does  n't,  clearly  get  it  inside  him,  otherwise 
I  'm  certain  it  would  revolt  him:  just  as  I  'm  certain  my 
uncle  Everard  is  at  this  moment  a  stone-blind  man.  If  he 
has  done  a  thing,  he  can't  question  it,  won't  examine  it. 
The  thing  becomes  a  part  of  him,  as  much  as  his  hand  or 
his  head.  He  's  a  man  of  the  twelfth  century.  Your 
father  might  be  helped  to  understand  him  first." 

"  Yes ,"  she  said,  not  very  warmly,  though  sadly. 

"  Tell  the  colonel  how  it  must  have  been  brought  about. 
For  Cecil  Baskelett  called  on  Dr.  Shrapnel  two  days 
before  Mr.  Romfrey  stood  at  his  gate." 

The  name  of  Cecil  caused  her  to  draw  in  her  shoulders 
in  a  half -shudder.  "  It  may  indeed  be  Captain  Baskelett 
who  set  this  cruel  thing  in  motion !  " 

"Then  point  that  out  to  your  father,"  said  he,  perceiv- 
ing a  chance  of  winning  her  to  his  views  through  a  con- 
crete object  of  her  dislike,  and  cooling  towar^  the  woman 
who  betrayed  a  vulgar  characteristic  of  her  sex ;  who  was 
merely  woman,  unable  sternly  to  recognize  the  doing  of  a 
foul  wrong  because  of  her  antipathy,  until  another  antip- 
athy enlightened  her.  ^  ^    ' 

He  wanted  in  fact  a  ready-made  heroine,  and  did  not 
give  her  credit  for  the  absence  of  fire  in  her  blood ,  as  well 
as  for  the  unexercised  imagination  which  excludes  young 
women  from  the  power  to  realize  unwonted  circumstances. 
We  men  walking  about  the  world  have  perhaps  no  more 
imagination  of  matters  not  domestic  than  they ;  but  what 
we  have  is  quick  with  experience:  we  see  the  thing  we 
hear  of:  women  come  to  it  how  they  can. 

Cecilia  was  recommended  to  weave  a  narrative  for  her 
father,  and  ultimately  induce  him,  if  she  could,  to  give  a 
gentleman's  opinion  of  the  case  to  Mr.  Romfrey. 

Her  sensitive  ear  caught  a  change  of  tone  in  the  direc- 
tions  she   received.     "Your  father  will  say  so   and  so: 


340 

answer  bim  with  this  and  that."  Beauchamp  supplied 
her  with  phrases.  She  was  to  renew  and  renew  the  attack; 
hammer  as  he  did.  Yesterday  she  had  followed  him :  to- 
day she  was  to  march  beside  him  — hardly  as  an  equal. 
Patience !  was  the  word  she  would  have  uttered  in  her 
detection  of  the  one  frailty  in  his  nature  which  this  hurry- 
ing of  her  off  her  feet  opened  her  eyes  to  with  unusual 
perspicacity.  Still  she  leaned  to  him  sufficiently  to  admit 
that  he  had  grounds  for  a  deep  disturbance  of  his  feelings. 

He  said:  "I  go  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's  cottage,  and  don't 
know  how  to  hold  up  my  head  before  Miss  Denham.  She 
confided  him  to  me  when  she  left  for  Switzerland!  " 

There  was  that  to  be  thought  of,  certainly. 

Colonel  Halkett  came  round  a  box-bush  and  discovered 
them  pacing  together  in  a  fashion  to  satisfy  his  paternal 
scrutiny. 

"  I  've  been  calling  you  several  times,  my  dear, "  he  com- 
plained. *' We  start  in  seven  minutes.  Bustle,  and  bonnet 
at  once.  Nevil,  I  'm  sorry  for  this  business.  Good-bj^e. 
Be  a  good  boy,  Nevil,"  he  murmured  kind-hear tedly,.  and 
shook  Beauchamp's  hand  with  the  cordiality  of  an  extreme 
relief  in  leaving  him  behind. 

The  colonel  and  Mr.  Romfrey  and  Beauchamp  were 
standing  on  the  hall-steps  when  Rosamund  beckoned  the 
latter  and  whispered  a  request  for  that  letter  of  Dr.  Shrap- 
nePs.     "It  is  for  Miss  Halkett,  Nevil." 

He  plucked  the  famous  epistle  from  his  bulging  pocket- 
book,  and  added  a  couple  of  others  in  the  same  hand- 
writing. 

"  Tell  her,  a  first  reading  —  it 's  difficult  to  read  at  first," 
he  said,  and  burned  to  read  it  to  Cecilia  himself:  to  read 
it  to  her  with  his  comments  and  explanations  appeared 
imperative.  It  struck  him  in  a  flash  that  Cecilia's  counsel 
to  him  to  quit  Steynham  for  awhile  was  good.  And  if  he 
went  to  Bevisham  he  would  be  assured  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
condition :  notes  and  telegrams  from  the  cottage  were  too 
much  tempered  to  console  and  deceive  him. 

"Send  my  portmanteau  and  bag  after  me  to  Bevisham," 
he  said  to  Rosamund,  and  announced  to  the  woefully  aston- 
ished colonel  that  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  journeying 
in  his  company  as  far  as  tlje  town. 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  341 

"Are  you  ready?     No  packing ?  "  said  the  colonel. 

"  It 's  better  to  have  your  impediments  in  the  rear  of 
you,  and  march  !  "  said  Mr.  Romfrey. 

Colonel  Halkett  declined  to  wait  for  anybody.  He 
shouted  for  his  daughter.  The  lady's  maid  appeared,  and 
then  Cecilia  with  Rosamund. 

"We  can't  entertain  you,  Nevil;  we're  away  to  the 
island:  I'm  sorry,"  said  the  colonel;  and  observing 
Cecilia's  face  in  full  crimson,  he  looked  at  her  as  if  he  had 
lost  a  battle  by  the  turn  of  events  at  the  final  moment. 

Mr.  Romfrey  handed  Cecilia  into  the  carriage.  He  ex- 
changed a  friendly  squeeze  with  the  colonel,  and  offered 
his  hand  to  his  nephew.  Beauchamp  passed  him  with  a 
nod  and  "Good-bye,  sir." 

"Have  ready  at  Holdesbury  for  the  middle  of  the 
month,"  said  Mr.  Romfrey,  unruffled,  and  bowed  to 
Cecilia. 

"  If  you  think  of  bringing  my  cousin  Baskelett,  give  me 
warning,  sir,"  cried  Beauchamp. 

"Give  me  warning,  if  you  want  the  house  for  Shrapnel," 
replied  his  uncle,  and  remarked  to  Rosamund,  as  the 
carriage  wheeled  round  the  mounded  laurels  to  the  avenue : 
"He  may  n't  be  quite  cracked.  The  fellow  seems  to  have 
a  turn  for  catching  his  opportunity  by  the  tail.  He  had 
better  hold  fast,  for  it 's  his  last." 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

CECILIA   CONQUERED 


The  carriage  rolled  out  of  the  avenue  and  through  the 
park,  for  some  time  parallel  with  the  wavy  downs.  Once 
away  from  Steynham  Colonel  Halkett  breathed  freely,  as 
if  he  had  dropped  a  load :  he  was  free  of  his  bond  to  Mr. 
Romfrey,  and  so  great  was  the  sense  of  relief  in  him  that 
he  resolved  to  do  battle  against  his  daughter,  supposing 
her  still  lively  blush  to  be  the  sign  of  the  enemy's  flag  run 
up  on  a  surrendered  citadel.     His  authority  was  now  to  be 


842 

thought  of:  his  paternal  sanction  was  in  his  own  keeping. 
Beautiful  as  she  looked,  it  was  hardly  credible  that  a 
fellow  in  possession  of  his  reason  could  have  let  slip  his 
chance  of  such  a  prize;  but  whether  he  had  or  had  not,  the 
colonel  felt  that  he  occupied  a  position  enabling  him  either 
to  out-manoeuvre,  or,  if  need  were,  interpose  forcibly  and 
punish  him  for  his  half-heartedness. 

Cecilia  looked  the  loveliest  of  women  to  Beauchamp's 
eyes,  with  her  blush,  and  the  letters  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  in 
her  custody,  at  her  express  desire.  Certain  terms  in  the 
letters  here  and  there,  unsweet  to  ladies,  began  to  trouble 
his  mind. 

"By  the  way,  colonel,"  he  said,  "you  had  a  letter  of  Dr. 
Shrapnel's  read  to  you  by  Captain  Baskelett.'' 

"  Iniquitous  rubbish !  " 

"With  his  comments  on  it,  I  dare  say  you  thought  it  so. 
I  won't  speak  of  his  right  to  make  it  public.  He  wanted 
to  produce  his  impressions  of  it  and  me,  and  that  is  a 
matter  between  him  and  me.  Dr.  Shrapnel  makes  use  of 
strong  words  now  and  then,  but  I  undertake  to  produce  a 
totally  different  impression  on  you  by  reading  the  letter 
myself  —  sparing  you  '^  (he  turned  to  Cecilia)  "  a  word  or 
two,  common  enough  to  men  who  write  in  black  earnest 
and  have  humour."  He  cited  his  old  favourite,  the  black 
and  bright  lecturer  on  Heroes.  "You  have  read  him,  I 
know,  Cecilia.  Well,  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  another,  who  writes 
in  his  own  style,  not  the  leading-article  style  or  modern 
pulpit  stuff.     He  writes  to  rouse." 

"He  does  that  to  my  temper,"  said  the  colonel. 

"Perhaps  here  and  here  he  might  offend  Cecilia's  taste," 
Beauchamp  pursued  for  her  behoof.  "Everything  de- 
pends on  the  mouthpiece.  I  should  not  like  the  letter  to 
be  read  without  my  being  by ;  —  except  by  men :  any  just- 
minded  man  may  read  it:  Seymour  Austin,  for  example. 
Every  line  is  a  text  to  the  mind  of  the  writer.  Let  me  call 
on  you  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow?"  Colonel  Halkett  put  on  a  thoughtful 
air.  "  To-morrow  we  're  off  to  the  island  for  a  couple  of 
days;  and  there's  Lord  Croyston's  garden  party,  and  the 
Yacht  Ball.  Come  this  evening  —  dine  with  us.  No 
reading  of  letters,  please.     I  can't  stand  it,  Nevil." 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  343 

The  invitation  was  necessarily  declined  by  a  gentleman 
who  could  not  expect  to  be  followed  by  supplies  of  clothes 
and  linen  for  evening  wear  that  day. 

"Ah,  we  shall  see  you  some  day  or  other/'  said  the 
colonel. 

Cecilia  was  less  alive  to  Beauchamp's  endeavour  to  pre- 
pare her  for  the  harsh  words  in  the  letter  than  to  her 
father's  insincerity.  She  would  have  asked  her  friend  to 
come  in  the  morning  next  day,  but  for  the  dr6ad  of  deep- 
ening her  blush. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  start  so  early  in  the  morning,  papa  ?  " 
she  ventured  to  say;  and  he  replied,  "As  early  as 
possible." 

"I  don't  know  what  news  I  shall  have  in  Bevisham,  or  I 
would  engage  to  run  over  to  the  island,"  said  Beauehamp, 
with  a  flattering  persistency  or  singular  obtuseness. 

"You  will  dance,"  he  subsequently  observed  to  Cecilia, 
out  of  the  heart  of  some  reVerie.  He  had  been  her  admir- 
ing partner  on  the  night  before  the  drive  from  Itchincope 
into  Bevisham,  and  perhaps  thought  of  her  graceful  danc- 
ing at  the  Yacht  Ball,  and  the  contrast  it  would  present  to 
his  watch  beside  a  sick  man  —  struck  down  by  one  of  his 
own  family. 

She  could  have  answered,  "Xot  if  you  wish  me  not  to;  " 
while  smiling  at  the  quaint  sorrowfulness  of  his  tone. 

"  Dance  !  "  quoth  Colonel  Halkett,  whose  present  temper 
discerned  a  healthy  antagonism  to  misanthropic  Radicals 
in  the  performance,  "all  young  people  dance.  Have  you 
given  over  dancing  ?  " 

"Not  entirely,  colonel." 

Cecilia  danced  with  Mr.  Tuckham  at  the  Yacht  Ball, 
and  was  vividly  mindful  of  every  slight  incident  leading 
to  and  succeeding  her  lover's  abrupt,  "You  will  dance:" 
which  had  all  passed  by  her  dream-like  up  to  that  hour: 
his  attempt  to  :^orewarn  her  of  the  phrases  she  would  deem 
objectionable  in  Dr.  Shrapnel's  letter;  his  mild  accepta- 
tion of  her  father's  hostility;  his  adieu  to  her,  and  his 
melancholy  departure  on  foot  from  the  station,  as  she 
drove  away  to  Mount  Laurels  and  gaiety.  Why  do  I 
dance  ?  she  asked  herself.     It  was  not  in  the   spirit  of 


344  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEEK 

happiness.  Her  heart  was  not  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  but 
very  near  him,  and  heavy  as  a  chamber  of  the  sick.  She 
was  afraid  of  her  father's  favourite,  imagining,  from  the 
colonel's  unconcealed  opposition  to  Beauchamp,  that  he 
had  designs  in  the  interests  of  Mr.  Tuckham.  But  the 
hearty  gentleman  scattered  her  secret  terrors  by  his  bluff- 
ness  and  openness.  He  asked  her  to  remember  that  she 
had  recommended  him  to  listen  to  Seymour  Austin,  and 
he  had  done  so,  he  said.  Undoubtedly  he  was  much  im- 
proved, much  less  overbearing. 

He  won  her  confidence  by  praising  and  loving  her  father, 
and  when  she  alluded  to  the  wonderful  services  he  had  ren- 
dered on  the  Welsh  estate,  he  said  simply  that  her  father's 
thanks  repaid  him.  He  recalled  his  former  downrightness 
only  in  speaking  of  the  case  of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  upon  which, 
both  with  the  colonel  and  with  her,  he  was  unreservedly 
condemnatory  of  Mr.  Komfrey.  Colonel  Halkett's  de- 
fence of  the  true  knight  and  guardian  of  the  reputation  of 
ladies,  fell  to  pieces  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Tuckham.  He 
had  seen  Dr.  Shrapnel,  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Lydiard,  whom 
he  described  as  hanging  about  Bevisham,  philandering  as 
a  married  man  should  not,  though  in  truth  he  might  soon 
expect  to  be  released  by  the  death  of  his  crazy  wife.  The 
doctor,  he  said,  had  been  severely  shaken  by  the  mon- 
strous assault  made  on  him,  and  had  been  most  unrigh- 
teously handled.  The  doctor  was  an  inoffensive  man  in 
his  private  life,  detestable  and  dangerous  though  his 
teachings  were.  Outside  politics  Mr.  Tuckham  went  alto- 
gether with  Beauchamp..  He  promised  also  that  old  !^Jrs. 
Beauchamp  should  be  accurately  informed  of  the  state  of 
matters  between  Captain  Beauchamp  and  Mr.  Romfrey. 
He  left  Mount  Laurels  to  go  back  in  attendance  on  the 
venerable  lady,  without  once  afflicting  Cecilia  with  a 
shiver  of  well-founded  apprehension,  and  she  was  grateful 
to  him  almost  to  friendly  affection  in  the  vanishing  of  her 
unjust  suspicion,  until  her  father  hinted  that  there  was 
the  man  of  his  heart.  Then  she  closed  all  avenues  to  her 
own. 

A  period  of  maidenly  distress  not  previously  unknown 
to  her  ensued.  Proposals  of  marriage  were  addressed  to 
her  by  two  untitled  gentlemen,  and  by  the  Earl  of  Lock- 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  345 

race  :  three  within  a  fortnight.  The  recognition  of  the 
young  heiress's  beauty  at  the  Yacht  Ball  was  accountable 
for  the  bursting  out  of  these  fires.  Her  father  would  not 
have  deplored  her  acceptance  of  the  title  of  Countess  of 
Lockrace.  In  the  matter  of  rejections,  however,  her  will 
was  paramount,  and  he  was  on  her  side  against  relatives 
when  the  subject  was  debated  among  them.  He  called 
her  attention  to  the  fact  impressively,  telling  her  that  she 
should  not  hear  a  syllable  from  him  to  persuade  her  to 
marry :  the  emphasis  of  which  struck  the  unspoken  warn- 
ing on  her  intelligence  :  Bring  no  man  to  me  of  whom  I 
do  not  approve ! 

"  Worthier  of  you,  as  I  hope  to  hecome,^^  Beauchamp  had 
said.  Cecilia  lit  on  that  part  of  Dr.  ShrapneFs  letter 
where  "Fight  this  out  within  you,"  distinctly  alluded  to 
the  unholy  love.  Could  she  think  ill  of  the  man  who  thus 
advised  him  ?  She  shared  Beauchamp's  painful  feeling  for 
him  in  a  sudden  tremour  of  her  frame  ;  as  it  were  through 
his  touch.  To  the  rest  of  the  letter  her  judgement  stood 
opposed,  save  when  a  sentence' here  and  there  reminded 
her  of  Captain  Baskelett's  insolent  sing-song  declamation 
of  it:  and  that  would  have  turned  Sacred  Writing  to 
absurdity. 

Beauchamp  had  mentioned  Seymour  Austin  as  one  to 
whom  he  would  willingly  grant  a  perusal  of  the  letter. 
Mr.  Austin  came  to  Mount  Laurels  about  the  close  of  the 
yachting  season,  shortly  after  Colonel  Halkett  had  spent 
his  customary  days  of  September  shooting  at  Steynham. 
Beauchamp' s  folly  was  the  colonel's  theme,  for  the  fellow 
had  dragged  Lord  Palmet  there,  and  driven  his  uncle  out 
of  patience.  Mr.  E,omfrey's  monumental  patience  had  been 
exhausted  by  hira.  The  colonel  boiled  over  with  accounts 
of  Beauchamp's  behaviour  toward  his  uncle,  and  Palmet, 
and  Baskelett,  and  Mrs.  Culling :  how  he  flew  at  and 
worried  everybody  who  seemed  to  him  to  have  had  a  hand 
in  the  proper  chastisement  of  that  man  Shrapnel.  That 
pestiferous  letter  of  Shrapnel's  was  animadverted  on,  of 
course  ;  and,  "  I  should  like  you  to  have  heard  it,  Austin," 
the  colonel  said,  "just  for  you  to  have  a  notion  of  the  kind 
of  universal  blow-up  those  men  are  scheming,  and  would 
hoist  us  with,  if  they  could  get  a  little  more  blasting- 
powder  than  they  mill  in  their  lunatic  heads." 


346  BEAtrCHAlVIP's  cakeer 

Now  Cecilia  wished  for  Mr.  Austin's  opinion  of  Dr. 
Shrapnel;  and  as  the  delicate  state  of  her  inclinations 
made  her  conscious  that  to  give  him  the  letter  covertly 
would  be  to  betray  them  to  him,  who  had  once,  not  know- 
ing it,  moved  her  to  think  of  a  possible  great  change  in  her 
life,  she  mustered  courage  to  say,  "  Captain  Beauchamp 
at  my  request  lent  me  the  letter  to  read ;  I  have  it,  and 
others  written  by  Dr.  Shrapnel." 

Her  father  hummed  to  himself,  and  immediately  begged, 
Seymour  Austin  not  to  waste  his  time  on  the  stuff,  though 
he  had  no  idea  that  a  perusal  of  it  could  awaken  other  than 
the  gravest  reprehension  in  so  rational  a  Tory  gentleman. 

Mr.  Austin  read  the  letter  through.  He  asked  to  see  the 
other  letters  mentioned  by  Cecilia,  and  read  them  calmly, 
without  a  frown  or  an  interjection.  She  sat  sketching,  her 
father  devouring  newspaper  columns. 

"  It 's  the  writing  of  a  man  who  means  well,"  Mr.  Austin 
delivered  his  opinion. 

"  Why,  the  man's  an  infidel ! "  Colonel  Halkett  ex- 
claimed. 

"There  are  numbers." 

"  They  have  the  grace  not  to  confess,  then." 

"  It 's  as  well  to  know  what  the  world 's  made  of,  colonel. 
^  The  clergy  shut  their  eyes.  There  's  no  treating  a  disease 
without  reading  it ;  and  if  we  are  to  acknowledge  a  *  vice,* 
as  Dr.  Shrapnel  would  say  of  the  so-called  middle-class,  it 
is  the  smirking  over  what  they  think,  or  their  not  caring  to 
think  at  all.  Too  many  time-servers  rot  the  State.  I  can 
understand  the  effect  of  such  writing  on  a  mind  like  Cap- 
'  tain  Beauchamp's.  It  would  do  no  harm  to  our  young  men 
to  have  those  letters  read  publicly  and  lectured  on  —  by 
competent  persons.  Half  the  thinking  world  may  think 
pretty  much  the  same  on  some  points  as  Dr.  Shrapnel; 
they  are  toa  wise  or  too  indolent  to  say  it :  and  of  the  other 
half  about  a  dozen  members  would  be  competent  to  reply  to 
him.  He  is  the  earnest  man,  and  flies  at  politics  as  uneasy 
young  brains  fly  to  literature,  fancying  they  can  write  be- 
cause they  can  write  with  a  pen.  He  perceives  a  bad  ad- 
justment of  things :  which  is  correct.  He  is  honest,  and 
takes  his  honesty  for  a'  virtue  :  and  that  entitles  him  to 
believe  in  himself :  and  that  belief  causes  him  to  see  in  all 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  347 

opposition  to  him  the  wrong  he  has  perceived  in  existing 
circumstances :  and  so  in  a  dream  of  power  he  invokes  tlie 
people :  and  as  they  do  not  stir,  he  takes  to  prophecy. 
This  is  the  round  of  the  politics  of  impatience.  The 
study  .of  politics  should  be  guided  by  some  light  of  states- 
manship, otherwise  it  comes  to  this  wild  preaching.  These 
men  are  theory- tailors,  not  politicians.  They  are  the  men 
wlio  make  the  '  strait-waistcoat  for  humanity.'  They  would 
fix  us  to  first  principles  like  tethered  sheep  or  hobbled 
horses.  (  I  should  enjoy  replying  to  him,  if  I  had  time. 
The  whole  letter  is  composed  of  variations  upon  one  idea. 
Still  I  must  say  the  man  interests  me ;  I  should  like  to 
talk  to  him.'' 

Mr.  Austin  paid  no  heed  to  the  colonel's  "  Dear  me  !  dear 
me ! "  of  amazement.  He  said  of  the  style  of  the  letters, 
that  it  was  the  puffing  of  a  giant :  a  strong  wind  rather 
than  speech :  and  begged  Cecilia  to  note  that  men  who 
labour  to  force  their  dreams  on  mankind  and  turn  vapour 
into  fact,  usually  adopt  such  a  style.  Hearing  that  this 
private  letter  had  been  deliberately  read  through  by  Mr. 
Eomfrey,  and  handed  by  him  to  Captain  Baskelett,  who 
had  read  it  out  in-  various  places,  Mr.  Austin  said,  "  A 
strange  couple ! "  He  appeared  perplexed  by  his  old 
friend's  approval  of  them.  "There  we  decidedly  differ," 
said  he,  when  the  case  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  was  related  by  the 
colonel,  with  a  refusal  to  condemn  Mr.  Romfrey.  He  pro- 
nounced Mr.  Romfrey's  charges  against  Dr.  Shrapnel,  taken 
in  conjunction  with  his  conduct,  to  be  baseless,  childish,  and 
wanton.  The  colonel  would  not  see  the  case  in  that  light ; 
but  Cecilia  did.  It  was  a  justification  of  Beauchamp  ;  ^'nd 
how  could  she  ever  have  been  blind  to  it  ?  —  scarcely  blind, 
she  remembered,  but  sensitively  blinking  her  eyelids  to  dis- 
tract her  sight  in  contemplating  it,  and  to  preserve  her 
repose.  As  to  Beauchamp's  demand  of  the  apology,  Mr. 
Austin  considered  that  it  might  be  an  instance  of  his  want 
of  knowledge  of  men,  yet  could  not  be  called  silly,  and  to 
call  it  insane  was  the  rhetoric  of  an  adversary. 

"  I  do  call  it  insane,"   said  the  colonel. 

He  separated  himself  from  his  daughter  by  a  sharp 
division. 

Had  Beauchamp    appeared  at  Mount  Laurels,   Cecilia 


348  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

would  have  been  ready  to  support  and  encourage  him 
boldly.  Backed  by  Mr.  Austin,  she  saw  some  good  in  Dr. 
Shrapnel's  writing,  much  in  Beauchamp's  devotedness. 
He  shone  clear  to  her  reason,  at  last :  partly  because  her 
father  in  his  opposition  to  him  did  not,  but  was  on  the 
contrary  unreasonable,  cased  in  mail,  mentally  clouded. 
She  sat  with  Mr.  Austin  and  her  father,  trying  repeatedly, 
in  obedience  to  Beauchamp's  commands,  to  bring  the  latter 
to  a  just  contemplation  of  the  unhappy  case ;  behaviour  on 
her  part  which  rendered  the  colonel  inveterate. 

Beauchamp  at  thi^  moment  was  occupied  in  doing  secre- 
tary's work  for  Dr.  Shrapnel.  So  Cecilia  learnt  from  Mr. 
Lydiard,  who  came  to  pay  his  respects  to  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux  at  Mount  Laurels.  The  pursuit  of  the  apology 
was  continued  in  letters  to  his  uncle  and  occasional  inter- 
views with  him,  which  were  by  no  means  instigated  by  the 
doctor,  Mr.  Lydiard  informed  the  ladies.  He  described 
Beauchamp  as  acting  in  the  spirit  of  a  man  who  has  sworn 
an  oath  to  abandon  every  pleasure  in  life,  that  he  may,  as 
far  as  it  lies  in  his  power,  indemnify  his  friend  for  the 
wrong  done  to  him. 
'     "Such  men  are  too  terrible  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Devereux. 

Cecilia  thought  the  reverse  :  Not  for  me  !  But  she  felt 
a  strain  upon  her  nature,  and  she  was  miserable  in  her 
alienation  from  her  father.  Kissing  him  one  night,  she 
laid  her  head  on  his  breast,  and  begged  his  forgiveness. 
He  embraced  her  tenderly.  "  Wait,  only  wait ;  you  will 
see  I  am  right,"  he  said,  and  prudently  said  no  more,  and 
did  not  ask  her  to  speak. 

She  was  glad  that  she  had  sought  the  reconciliation  from 
her  heart's  natural  warmth,  on  hearing  some  time  later  that 
M.  de  Croisnel  was  dead,  and  that  Beauchamp  meditated 
starting  for  France  to  console  his  Renee.  Her  continual 
agitations  made  her  doubtful  of  her  human  feelings  :  she 
clung  to  that  instance  of  her  filial  stedfastness. 

The  day  before  Cecilia  and  her  father  left  Mount  Laurels 
for  their  season  in  Wales,  Mr.  Tuckham  and  Beauchamp. 
came  together  to  the  house,  and  were  closeted  an  hour  with 
her  father.  Cecilia  sat  in  the  drawing-room,  thinking  that 
she  did  indeed  wait,  and  had  great  patience.  Beauchamp 
entered  the  room  alone.     He  looked  worn  and  thin,  of  a 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  349 

leaden  colour,  like  the  cloud  that  bears  the  bolt.  News  had 
reached  him  of  the  death  of  Lord  Avonley  in  the  hunting- 
field,  and  he  was  going  on  to  Steynham  to  persuade  his 
uncle  to  accompany  him  to  Bevisham  and  wash  the  guilt 
of  his  wrong-doing  off  him  before  applying  for  the  title. 
"You  would  advise  me  not  to  go?"  he  said.  "I  must. 
I  should  be  dishonoured  myself  if  I  let  a  chance  pass.  I 
run  the  risk  of  being  a  beggar  :  I  ^m  all  but  one  now." 

Cecilia  faltered^:  "  Do  you  see  a  chance  ?  " 

"  Hardly  more  than  an  excuse  for  trying  it,"  he  replied. 

She  gave  him  back  Dr.  Shrapnel's  letters.  "  I  have  read 
them,"  was  all  she  said.  For  he  might  have  just  returned 
from  France,  with  the  breath  of  Eenee  about  him,  and  her 
pride  would  not  suffer  her  to  melt  him  in  rivalry  by  saying 
what  she  had  been  led  to  think  of  the  letters. 

Hearing  nothing  from  her,  he  silently  put  them  in  his 
pocket.  The  struggle  with  his  uncle  seemed  to  be  souring 
him  or  deadening  him. 

They  were  not  alone  for  long.  Mr.  Tuckham  presented 
himself  to  take  his  leave  of  her.  Old  Mrs.  Beauchamp  was 
dying,  and  he  had  only  come  to  Mount  Laurels  on  special 
business.     Beauchamp  was  just  as  anxious  to  hurry  away. 

Her  father  found  her  sitting  in  the  solitude  of  a  drawing- 
room  at  midday,  pale-faced,  with  unoccupied  fingers,  not 
even  a  book  in  her  lap. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  until  Cecilia,  to  say 
something,  said,  "  Mr.  Tuckham  could  not  stay." 

"  No,"  said  her  father ;  '^  he  could  not.  He  has  to  be  back 
as  quick  as  he  can  to  cut  his  legacy  in  halves  ! " 

Cecilia  looked  perplexed. 

"  I  '11  speak  plainly,"  said  the  colonel.  "  He  sees  that 
Nevil  has  ruined  himself  with  his  uncle.  The  old  lady  won't 
allow  Nevil  to  visit  her ;  in  her  condition  it  would  be  an 
excitement  beyond  her  strength  to  bear.  She  sent  Blackburn 
to  bring  Nevil  here,  and  give  him  the  option  of  stating  before 
me  whether  those  reports  about  his  misconduct  in  France 
were  true  or  not.  He  demurred  at  first :  however,  he  says 
they  are  not  true.  He  would  have  run  away  with  the  French- 
woman, and  he  would  have  fought  the  duel:  but  he  did 
neither.  Her  brother  ran  ahead  of  him  and  fought  for  him : 
so  he  declares :  and  she  would  n't  run.     So  the  reports  are 


350 

false.  We  shall  know  what  Blackburn  makes  of  the  story 
when  :we  hear  of  the  legacy.  I  have  been  obliged  to  write 
word  to  Mrs,  Beauchamp  that  I  believe  Nevil  to  have  made 
a  true  statement  of  the  facts.  But  I  distinctly  say,  and  so  I 
told-  Blackburn,  I  don't  think  money  will  do  Nevil  Beau- 
champ  a  farthing's  worth  of  good.  Blackburn  follows  his 
own  counsel.  He  induced  the  old  lady  to  send  him  ;  so  I 
suppose  he  intends  to  let  her  share  the  money  between  them. 
I  thought  better  of  him  ;  I  thought  him  a  wiser  man." 

Gratitude  to  Mr.  Tuckham  on  Beauchamp's  behalf  caused 
Cecilia  to  praise  him,  in  the  tone  of  compliments.  The  diffi- 
culty of  seriously  admiring  two  gentlemen  at  once  is  a 
feminine  dilemma,  with  the  maidenly  among  women. 

"  He  has  disappointed  me,"  said  Colonel  Halkett. 

"  Would  you  have  had  him  allow  a  falsehood  to  enrich  him 
and  ruin  Nevil,  papa  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,  I  'm  sick  to  death  of  romantic  fellows. 
I  took  Blackburn  for  one  of  our  solid  young  men.  Why 
should  he  share  his  aunt's  fortune  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  why  should  Nevil  have  money  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  do  mean  that.  Besides,  the  story  was  not  false 
as  far  as  his  intentions  went :  he  confessed  it,  and  I  ought  to 
have  put  it  in  a  postscript.  If  Nevil  wants  money,  let  him 
learn  to  behave  himself  like  a  gentleman  at  Steynham." 

''  He  has  not  failed." 

"  I  '11  say,  then,  behave  himself,  simply.  He  considers  it 
a  point  of  honour  to  get  his  uncle  Everard  to  go  down  on  his 
knees  to  Shrapnel.  But  he  has  no  moral  sense  where  I 
should  like  to  see  it :  none  :  he  confessed  it." 

"  What  were  his  words,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  words.  He  runs  over  to  France,  when- 
ever it  suits  him,  to  carry  on  there  .  .  ."  The  colonel 
ended  in  a  hum  and  buzz. 

"  Has  he  been  to  France  lately  ?  "  asked  Cecilia. 

Her  breath  hung  for  the  answer,  sedately  though  she  sat. 

"  The  woman's  father  is  dead,  I  hear,"  Colonel  Halkett 
remarked. 

**  But  he  has  not  been  there  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  He 's  anywhere,  wherever  his  passions 
whisk  him." 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  351 

'^I  say,  yes.  And  if  he  has  money,  we  shall  see  him  going 
sky-high  and  scattering  it  in  sparks,  not  merely  spending ; 
I  mean  living  immorally,  infidelizing,  republicanizing,  scan- 
dalizing his  class  and  his  country." 

"  Oh  no !  "  exclaimed  Cecilia,  rising  and  moving  to  the 
window  to  feast  her  eyes  on  driving  clouds,  in  a  strange 
exaltation  of  mind,  secretly  sure  now  that  her  idea  of  NeviFs 
having  gone  over  to  France  was  groundless,  and  feeling  that 
she  had  been  unworthy  of  him  who  strove  to  be  "  worthier 
of  her,  as  he  hoped  to  become." 

Colonel  Halkett  scoffed  at  her  "Oh  no,"  and  called  "it 
woman's  logic. 

She  could  not  restrain  herself.  "  Have  you  forgotten  Mr. 
Austin,  papa  ?  It  is  NeviPs  perfect  truthfulness  that  makes 
him  appear  worse  to  you  than  men  who  are  time-servers. 
Too  many  time-servers  rot  the  State,  Mr.  Austin  said. 
Nevil  is  not  one  of  them.  I  am  not  able  to  judge  or  specu- 
late whether  he  has  a  great  brain  or  is  likely  to  distinguish 
himself  out  of  his  profession:  I  would  rather  he  did 
not  abandon  it :  but  Mr.  Austin  said  to  me  in  talking  of 
him  .  .  .'' 

"  That  notion  of  Austin's  of  screwing  women's  minds  up 
to  the  pitch  of  men's!  "  interjected  the  colonel  with  a  de- 
spairing flap  of  his  arm. 

"  He  said,  papa,  that  honestly  active  men  in  a  country, 
who  decline  to  practise  hypocrisy,  show  that  the  blood  runs, 
and  are  a  sign  of  health." 

"  You  misunderstood  him,  my  dear." 

"  I  think  I  thoroughly  understood  him.  He  did  not  call 
them  wise.  He  said  they  might  be  dangerous  if  they  were 
not  met  in  debate.  But  he  said,  and  I  presume  to  think 
truly,  that  the  reason  why  they  are  decried  is,  that  it  is  too 
great  a  trouble  for  a  lazy  world  to  meet  them.  And,  he 
said,  the  reason  why  the  honest  factions  agitate  is  because 
they  encounter  sneers  until  they  appear  in  force.  If  they 
were  met  earlier,  and  fairly  —  I  am  only  quoting  him  —  they 
would  not,  I  think  he  said,  or  would  hardly,  or  would  not 
generally,  fall  into  professional  agitation." 

"  Austin  's  a  speculative  Tory,  I  know ;  and  that 's  his 
weakness,"  observed  the  colonel.  "  But  I  'm  certain  you 
misunderstood  him,  He  never  would  have  called  us  a  lazy' 
people," 


352  BBAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"Not  in  matters  of  business  :  in  matters  of  thought." 

"  My  dea,r  Cecilia!  You  've  got  hold  of  a  language  !  .  .  . 
a  way  of  speaking !  .  .  .  Who  set  you  thinking  on  these 
things  ?  " 

"  That  I  owe  to  Nevil  Beauchamp." 

Colonel  Halkett  indulged  in  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down 
the  room.  He  threw  open  a  window,  sniffed  the  moist  air, 
and  went  to  his  daughter  to  speak  to  her  resolutely. 

"  Between  a  Eadical  and  a  Tory,  I  don't  know  where  your 
head  has  been  whirled  to,  my  dear.  Your  heart  seems  to  be 
gone :  more  sorrow  for  us  !  And  for  Nevil  Beauchamp  to 
be  pretending  to  love  you  while  carrying  on  with  this 
Frenchwoman ! " 

"  He  has  never  said  that  he  loved  me." 

The  splendour  of  her  beauty  in  humility  flashed  on  her 
father,  and  he  cried  out :  "  You  are  too  good  for  any  man  on 
earth!  We  won't  talk  in  the  dark,  my  darling.  You  tell 
me  he  has  never,  as  they  say,  made  love  to  you  ?  " 

"Never,  papa." 

"Well,  that  proves  the  French  story.     At  any  rate,  he  's 
a  man  of  honour.     But  you  love  him  ?  " 
.   "  The  French  story  is  untrue,  papa." 

Cecilia  stood  in  a  blush  like  the  burning  cloud  of  the 
sunset. 

"  Tell  me  frankly :  I  'm  your  father,  your  old  dada,  your 
friend,  my  dear  girl  I  do  you  think  the  man  cares  for  you, 
loves  you?" 

She  replied :  "  I  know,  papa,  the  French  story  is  untrue." 

"  But  when  I  tell  you,  silly  woman,  he  confessed  it  to  me 
out  of  his  own  mouth !  " 

"  It  is  not  true  now." 

"  It 's  not  going  on,  you  mean?    How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"I  know." 

"  Has  he  been  swearing  it?  " 

"  He  has  not  spoken  of  it  to  me." 

"  Here  I  am  in  a  woman's  web  ! "  cried  the  colonel.  "  Is 
it  your  instinct  tells  you  it's  not  true?  or  what?  what? 
You  have  not  denied  that  you  love  the  man." 

"  I  know  he  is  not  immoral." 

"  There  you  shoot  again  !  Have  n't  you  a  yes  or  a  no  for 
your  father  ?  " 


CECILIA  CONQUERED  353 

Cecilia  cast  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  sobbed. 

She  could  not  bring  it  to  her  lips  to  say  (she  would  have 
shunned  the  hearing)  that  her  defence  of  Beauchamp,  which 
was  a  shadowed  avowal  of  the  state  of  her  heart,  was  based 
on  his  desire  to  read  to  her  the  conclusion  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
letter  touching  a  passion  to  be  overcome ;  necessarily  there- 
fore a  passion  that  was  vanquished,  and  the  fullest  and 
bravest  explanation  of  his  shifting  treatment  of  her :  nor 
would  she  condescend  to  urge  that  her  lover  would  have 
said  he  loved  her  when  they  were  at  Steynham,  but  for  the 
misery  and  despair  of  a  soul  too  noble  to  be  diverted  from . 
his  grief  and  sense  of  duty,  and,  as  she  believed,  unwilling 
to  speak  to  win  her  while  his  material  fortune  was  in 
jeopardy. 

The  colonel  cherished  her  on  his  breast,  with  one  hand 
regularly  patting  her  shoulder :  a  form  of  consolation  that 
cures  the  disposition  to  sob  as  quickly  as  would  the  drip  of 
water. 

Cecilia  looked  up  into  his  eyes,  and  said,  "  We  will  not 
be  parted,  papa,  ever." 

The  colonel  said  absently,  "No  ; "  and,  surprised  at  him- 
self, added  :  "  No,  certainly  not.  How  can  we  be  parted  ? 
You  won't  run  away  from  me  ?  No,  you  know  too  well  I 
can't  resist  you.  I  appeal  to  your  judgement,  and  I  must 
accept  what  you  decide.  But  he  is  immoral.  I  repeat  that. 
He  has  no  roots.  We  shall  discover  it  before  it 's  too  late,  I 
hope." 

Cecilia  gazed  away,  breathing  through  tremulous  dilat- 
ing nostrils. 

'^One  night  after  dinner  at  Steynham,"  pursued  the  colo- 
nel, "Nevil  was  rattling  against  the  Press,  with  Stukely 
Culbrett  to  prime  him :  and  he  said  editors  of  papers  were 
growing  to  be  like  priests,  and  as  timid  as  priests,  and 
arrogant :  and  for  one  thing,  it  was  because  they  supposed 
themselves  to  be  guardians  of  the  national  morality.  I 
forget  exactly  what  the  matter  was  :  but  he  sneered  at 
priests   and  morality," 

A  smile  wove  round  Cecilia's  lips,  and  in  her  towering 
superiority  to  one  who  talked  nonsense,  she  slipped  out  of 
maiden  shame  and  said:  "Attack  Nevil  for  his  political 
heresies  and  his  wrath  with  the  Press  for  not  printing  him. 

^3 


354  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

The  rest  concerns  his  honour,  where  he  is  quite  safe,  and 
all  are  who  trust  him.'' 

"  If  you  find  out  you  're  wrong  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  But  if  you  find  out  you  're  wrong  about  him,"  her  father 
reiterated  piteously,  "  you  won't  tear  me  to  strips  to  have 
him  in  spite  of  it  ?  " 

"  No,  papa,  not  I.     I  will  not." 

"Well,  that's  something  for  me  to  hold  fast  to,"  said 
Colonel  Halkett,  sighing. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

LORD  AVONLEY 


Mr.  Everard  Romfrey  was  now,  by  consent,  Lord 
Avonley,  mounted  on  his  direct  heirship  and  riding  hard  at 
the  earldom.  His  elevation  occurred  at  a  period  of  life  that 
would  have  been  a  season  of  decay  with  most  men ;  but  the 
-prolonged  and  lusty  Autumn  of  the  veteran  took  new  fires 
from  a  tangible  object  to  live  for.  His  brother  Craven's 
death  had  slightly  stupefied,  and  it  had  grieved  him  :  it 
seemed  to  him  peculiarly  pathetic ;  for  as  he  never  calcu- 
lated on  the  happening  of  mortal  accidents  to  ixuen  of  sound 
constitution,  the  circumstance  imparted  a  curious  shake  to 
his  own  solidity.  It  was  like  the  quaking  of  earth,  which 
tries  the  balance  of  the  strongest.  If  he  had  not  been 
raised  to  so  splendid  a  survey  of  the  actual  world,  he  might 
have  been  led  to  think  of  the  imaginary,  where  perchance 
a  man  may  meet  his  old  dogs  and  a  few  other  favourites, 
in  a  dim  perpetual  twilight.  Thither  at  all  events  Craven 
had  gone,  and  good-night  to  him  !  The  earl  was  a  rapidly 
lapsing  invalid.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  Everard 
was  to  be  the  head  of  his  House. 

Outwardly  he  was  the  same  tolerant  gentleman  who  put 
aside  the  poor  fools  of  the  world  to  walk  undisturbed  by 
them  in  the  paths  he  had  chosen :  in  this  aspect  he  knew 
himself;   nor  was  the  change  so  great  within  him  ^s  to 


LOED  AVONLEY  855 

mate  him  cognizant  of  a  change.  It  was  only  a  secret  turn 
in  the  bent  of  the  mind,  imperceptible  as  the  touch  of  the 
cunning  artist's  brush  on  a  finished  portrait,  which  will 
alter  the  expression  without  discomposing  a  feature,  so  that 
you  cannot  say  it  is  another  face,  yet  it  is  not  the  former 
one.  His  habits  were  invariable,  as  were  his  meditations. 
He  thought  less  of  Komfrey  Castle  than  of  his  dogs  and 
his  devices  for  trapping  vermin  ;  his  interest  in  birds  and 
beasts  and  herbs,  "  what  ninnies  call  Nature  in  books,"  to 
quote  him,  was  undiminished ;  imagination  he  had  none  to 
clap  wings  to  his  head  and  be  off  with  it.  He  betrayed  as 
little  as  he  felt  that  the  coming  Earl  of  Romfrey  was 
different  from  the  cadet  of  the  family. 

A  novel  sharpness  in  the  "Stop  that,"  with  which  he 
crushed  Beauchamp's  affectedly  gentle  and  unusually  round- 
about opening  of  the  vexed  Shrapnel  question,  rang  like  a 
shot  in  the  room  at  Steynham,  and  breathed  a  different 
spirit  from  his  customary  easy  pugnacity  that  welcomed 
and  lured  on  an  adversary  to  wild  outhitting.  Some  sor- 
rowful preoccupation  is,  however,  to  be  expected  in  the  man 
who  has  lost  a  brother,  and  some  degree  of  irritability  at 
the  intrusion  of  past  disputes.  He  chose  to  repeat  a  simi- 
lar brief  forbidding  of  the  subject  before  they  started 
together  for  the  scene  of  the  accident  and  Romfrey  Castle. 
No  notice  was  taken  of  Beauchamp's  remark,  that  he  con- 
sented to  go  though  his  duty  lay  elsewhere.  Beauchamp 
had  not  the  faculty  of  reading  inside  men,  or  he  would  have 
apprehended. that  his  uncle  was  engaged  in  silently  heap- 
ing aggravations  to  shoot  forth  one  fine  day  a  thundering 
and  astonishing  counterstroke. 

He  should  have  known  his  uncle  Everard  better. 

In  this  respect  he  seemed  to  have  no  memory.  But  who 
has  much  that  has  given  up  his  brains  for  a  lodging  to  a 
single  idea?  It  is  at  once  a  devouring  dragon,  and  an 
intractable  steam-force;  it  is  a  tyrant  that  has  eaten  up  a 
senate;  and  a  prophet  with  a  message.  Inspired  of  solitari- 
ness and  gigantic  size,  it  claims  divine  origin.  The  world 
can  have  no  peace  for  it. 

Cecilia  had  not  pleased  him;  none  had.  H§  did  not  bear 
in  mind  that  the  sight  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  sick  and  weak, 
which  constantly  reanimated  his  feelings  of  pity  and  of 


356  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

wrath,  was  not  given  to  the  others  of  whom  he  demanded  a 
corresponding  energy  of  just  indignation  and  sympathy. 
The  sense  that  he  was  left  unaided  to  the  task  of  bending 
his  tough  uncle,  combined  with  his  appreciation  of  the 
righteousness  of  the  task  to  embitter  him  and  set  him  on  a 
pedestal,  from  which  he  descended  at  every  sign  pf  an 
opportunity  for  striking,  and  to  which  he  retired  contiunally 
baffled  and  wrathful,  in  isolation. 

Then  ensued  the  dreadful  division  in  his  conception  of 
his  powers  :  for  he  who  alone  saw  the  just  and  right  thing 
to  do,  was  incapable  of  compelling  it  to  be  done.  Lay  on 
to  his  uncle  as  he  would,  that  wrestler  shook  him  off. 
And  here  was  one  man  whom  he  could  not  move  !  How 
move  a  nation  ? 

There  came  On  him  a  thirst  for  the  haranguing  of  crowds. 
They  agree  with  you  or  they  disagree  ;  exciting  you  to 
activity  in  either  case.  They  do  not  interpose  cold  Tory 
exclusiveness  and  inaccessibility.  You  have  them  in  the 
rough ;  you  have  nature  in  them,  and  all  that  is  hopeful  in 
nature.  You  drive  at,  over,  and  through  them,  for  their 
good;  you  plough  them.  You  sow  them  too.  Some  of 
them  perceive  that  it  is  for  their  good,  and  what  if  they  be' 
a  minority  ?  Ghastly  as  a  minority  is  in  an  Election,  in . 
a  lifelong  struggle  it  is  refreshing  and  encouraging.  The 
young  world  and  its  triumph  is  with  the  minority.  Oh  to 
be  speaking  !  CondeAined  to  silence  beside  his  uncle, 
Beauchamp  chafed  for  a  loosed  tongue  and  an  "audience 
tossing  like  the  well-whipped  ocean,  or  open  as  the  smooth 
sea-surface  to  the  marks  of  the  breeze.  Let  them  be  hos- 
tile or  amicable,  he  wanted  an  audience  as  hotly  as  the 
humped  Eichard  a  horse. 

At  Romfrey  Castle  he  fell  upon  an  audience  that  became 
transformed  into  a  swarm  of  chatterers,  advisers,  and  re- 
provers the  instant  his  lips  were  parted.  The  ladies  of  the 
family  declared  his  pursuit  of  the  Apology  to  be  worse  and 
vainer  than  his  politics.  The  gentlemen  said  the  same,  but 
they  were  not  so  outspoken  to  him  personally,  and  indulged 
in  asides,  with  quotations  of  some  of  his  uncle  Everard's 
recent  observations  concerning  him  :  as  for  example, 
"  Politically  he 's  a  mad  harlequin  jumping  his  tights  and^ 
spangles  widen  nobody  asks  him  to  jump ;  and  in  private 


LOED  AVONLEY  ,  857 

life  he 's  a  mad  dentist  poking  his  tongs  at  my  sound 
tooth :  "  a  highly  ludicrous  image  of  the  persistent  fellow, 
and  a  reminder  of  situations  in  Moliere,  as  it  was  acted  by 
Cecil  Baskelett  and  Lord  Welshpool.  Beauchamp  had  to  a 
certain  extent  restored  himself  to  favour  with  his  uncle 
Everard  by  offering  a  fair  suggestion  on  the  fatal  held  to 
account  for  the  accident,  after  the  latter  had  taken  meas- 
urements and  examined  the  place  in  perplexity.  His  elu- 
cidation of  the  puzzle  was  referred  to  by  Lord  Avonley  at 
Romfrey,  and  finally  accepted  as  possible  :  and  this  from  a 
wiseacre  who  went  quacking  about  the  county,  expecting  to 
upset  the  order  of  things  in  England!  Such  a  mixing  of 
sense  and  nonsense  in  a  fellow's  noddle  was  never  before 
met  with.  Lord  Avonley  said.  Cecil  took  the  hint.  He 
had  been  unworried  by  Beauchamp :  Dr.  Shrapnel  had  not 
been  mentioned :  and  it  delighted  Cecil  to  let  it  be  known 
that  he  thought  old  Nevil  had  some  good  notions,  particu- 
larly as  to  the  duties  of  the  aristocracy — that  first  war-cry 
of  his  when  a  midshipman.  News  of  another  fatal  accident 
in  the  hunting-field  confirmed  Cecil's  higher  opinion  of  his 
cousin.  On  the  day  of  Craven's  funeral  they  heard  at 
Romfrey  that  Mr.  Wardour-Devereux  had  been  killed  by  a 
fall  from  his  horse.  Two  English  gentlemen  despatched  by 
the  same  agency  within  a  fortnight !  "  He  smoked,"  Lord 
Avonley  said  of  the  second  departure,  to  allay  some  pertur- 
bation in  the  bosoms  of  the  ladies  who  had  ceased  to  ride, 
by  accounting  for  this  particular  mishap  in  the  most  re- 
assuring fashion.  Cecil's  immediate  reflection  was  that  the 
unfortunate  Smoker  had  left  a  rich  widow.  Far  behind  in 
the  race  for  Miss  Halkett,  and  uncertain  of  a  settled  advan- 
tage in  his  other  rivalry  with  Beauchamp,  he  fixed  his  mind 
on  the  widow,  and  as  Beauchamp  did  not  stand  in  his  way, 
but  on  the  contrary  might  help  him — for  she,  like  the 
generality  of  women,  admired  Nevil  Beauchamp  in  spite  of 
her  feminine  good  sense  and  conservatism  —  Cecil  began  to 
regard  the  man  he  felt  less  opposed  to  witii  some  recogni- 
tion of  his  merits.  The  two  nephews  accompanied  Lord 
Avonley  to  London,  and  slept  at  his  town-house.  They 
breakfasted  together  the  next  morning  on  friendly  terms. 
Half  an  hour  afterward  there  was  an  explosion  ;  uncle  and 
nephews  were  scattered  fragments :   and  if  Cecil  was  the 


358  BEAtTCHAMP*S  CAEEER 

first  to  return  to  cohesion  with  his  lord  and  chief,  it  was, 
he  protested  energetically,  common  policy  in  a  man  in  his 
position  to  do  so  :  all  that  he  looked  for  being  a  decent  pen- 
sion and  a  share  in  tiie  use  of  the  town-house.  Old  Nevil, 
he  related,  began  cross-examining  him  and  entangling  him 
with  the  cunning  of  tihe  deuce,  in  my  lord's  presence,  and 
having  got  him  to  make  an  admission,  old  Nevil  flung  it  at 
the  baron,  and  even  crossed  him  and  stood  before  him 
when  he  was  walking  out  of  the  room.  A  furious  wrangle 
took  place.  Nevil  and  the  baron  gave  it  to  one  another 
unmercifully.  The  end  of  it  was  that  all  three  flew  apart, 
/for  Cecil  confessed  to  having  a  temper,  and  in  contempt  of 
him  for  the  admission  wrung  out  of  him,  Lord  Avonley 
had  pricked  it.  My  lord  went  down  to  Steynham,  Beau- 
champ  to  Holdesbury,  and  Captain  Baskelett  to  his  quar- 
ters ;  whence  in  a  few  days  he  repaired  penitently  to  my 
lord  —  the  most  placable  of  men  when  a  full  submission 
was  offered  to  him. 

Beauchamp  did  nothing  of  the  kind.  He  wrote  a  letter 
to  Steynham  in  the  form  of  an  ultimatum. 

This  egregious  letter  was  handed  to  Kosamund  for  proof 
of  her  darling^^s  lunacy.  She  in  conversation  with  Stukely 
Culbrett  unhesitatingly  accused  Cecil  of  plotting  his  cousin's 
ruin.  * 

Mr.  Culbrett  thought  it  possible  that  Cecil  had  been  a 
little  more  than  humorous  in  the  part  he  had  played  in 
the  dispute,  and  spoke  to  him. 

Then  it  came  out  that  Lord  Avonley  had  also  delivered 
an  ultimatum  to  Beauchamp. 

Time  enough  had  gone  by  for  Cecil  to  forget  his  ruffling, 
and  relish  the  baron's  grandly  comic  spirit  in  appropriat- 
ing that  big  word  Apology,  and  demanding  it  from  Beau- 
champ on  behalf  of  the  lady  ruling  his  household.  What 
could  be  funnier  than  the  knocking  of  Beauchamp's  blun- 
derbuss out  of  his  hands,  and  pointing  the  muzzle  at  him  ! 

Cecil  dramatized  the  fun  to  amuse  Mr.  Culbrett.  Ap- 
parently Beauchamp  had  been  staggered  on  hearing  himself 
asked  for  the  definite  article  he  claimed.  He  had  made  a 
point  of  speaking  of  the  Apology.  Lord  Avonley  did 
likewise.  And  each  professed  to  exact  it  for  a  deeply 
aggrieved  person :  each  put  it  on  the  ground  that  it  in- 


LOED  AVOKLEY  359 

volved    the   other's    rightful   ownership    of    the    title   of 
gentleman. 

"  ^  An  apology  to  the  amiable  and  virtuous  Mistress  Cuh 
ling  ? '  says  old  Nevil :  '  an  apology  ?  what  for  ?  '  ^ —  ^  For 
unbecoming  and  insolent  behaviour/  says  my  lord." 

"  I  am  that  lady's  friend,"  Stukely  warned  Captain  Bas- 
kelett.     "  Don't  let  us  have  a  third  apSlogy  in  the  field." 

*'  Perfectly  true  ;  you  are  her  friend,  and  you  know  what 
a  friend  of  mine  she  is,"  rejoined  Cecil.  "  I  could  swear 
*  that  lady '  flings  the  whole  affair  at  me.  I  give  you  my 
word,  old  Nevil  and  I  were  on  a  capital  footing  before  he 
and  the  baron  broke  up.  I  praised  him  for  tickling  the 
aristocracy.  I  backed  him  heartily ;  I  do  now  ;  I  '11  d6  it 
in  Parliament.  I  know  a  case  of  a  noble  lord,  a  General  in 
the  army,  and  he  received  an  intimation  that  he  might  as' 
well  attend  the  Prussian  cavalry  manoeuvres  last  Autumn 
on  the  Lower  Rhine  or  in  Silesia  —  no  matter  where.  He 
could  n't  go :  he  was  engaged  to  shoot  birds  !  I  give  you 
my  word.  Now  there  I  see  old  Nevil  's  right.  It 's  as 
well  we  should  know  something  about  the  Prussian  and 
Austrian  cavalry,  and  if  our  aristocracy  won't  go  abroad  to 
study  cavalry,  who  is  to  ?  no  class  in  the  kingdom  under- 
stands horses  as  they  do.  My  opinion  is,  they  're  asleep. 
Nevil  should  have  stuck  to  that,  instead  of  trying  to  gal- 
vanize the  country  and  turning  against  his  class.  But 
fancy  old  Nevil  asked  for  the  Apology  !  It  petrified  him. 
^  I  've  told  her  nothing  but  the  truth,'  says  Nevil.  ^  Tell- 
ing the  truth  to  women  is  an  impertinence,'  says  my  lord. 
Nevil  swore  he  'd  have  a  revolution  in  the  country  before 
he  apologized." 

Mr.  Culbrett  smiled  at  the  absurdity  of  the  change  of 
positions  between  Beauchamp  and  his  uncle  Everard,  which 
reminded  him  somewhat  of  the  old  story  of  the  highwayman 
innkeeper  and  the  market  farmer  who  had  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  recharge  his  pistols  after  quitting  the  inn  at  mid- 
night. A  practical  tu  quoque  is  astonishingly  laughable, 
and  backed  by  a  high  figure  and  manner  it  had  the  flavour 
of  triumphant  repartee.  Lord  Avonley  did  not  speak  of 
it  as  a  retort  upon  Nevil,  though  he  reiterated  the  word 
Apology  amusingly.  He  put  it  as  due  to  the  lady  govern- 
ing his  household  j  and  his  ultimatum  was,  that  the  Apology 


360 

should  be  delivered  in  terms  to  satisfy  him  within  three 
months  of  the  date  of  the  demand  for  it :  otherwise  blank  ,• 
but  the  shadowy  index  pointed  to  the  destitution  of  Nevil 
Beauchamp. 

No  stroke  of  retributive  misfortune  could  have  been 
severer  to  Eosamund  than  to  be  thrust  forward  as  the  object 
of  humiliation  for  the  man  she  loved.  She  saw  at  a  glance 
how  much  more  likely  it  was  (remote  as  the  possibility 
appeared)  that  her  lord  would  perform  the  act  of  penitence 
than  her  beloved  Nevil.  And  she  had  no  occasion  to  ask 
herself  why.  Lord  Avonley  had  done  wrong,  and  Nevil  had 
not.  It  was  inconceivable  that  Nevil  should  apologize  to 
her.  It  was  horrible  to  picture  the  act  in  her  mind.  She 
was  a  very  rational  woman,  quite  a  woman  of  the  world, 
yet  such  was  her  situation  between  these  two  men  that  the 
childish  tale  of  a  close  and  consecutive  punishment  for  sins, 
down  to  our  little  naughtinesses  and  naturalnesses,  enslaved 
her  intelligence,  and  amazed  her  with  the  example  made  of 
her,  as  it  were  to  prove  the  tale  true  of  our  being  surely 
hauled  back  like  domestic  animals  learning  the  habits  of 
good  society,  to  the  rueful  contemplation  of  certain  of  our 
deeds,  however  wildly  we  appeal  to  nature  to  stand  up  for 
them. 

But  is  it  so  with  all  of  us  ?  No,  thought  Eosamund, 
sinking  dejectedly  from  a  recognition  of  the  heavenliness 
of  the  justice  which  lashed  her  and  Nevil,  and  did  not 
scourge  Cecil  Baskelett.  That  fine  eye  for  celestially  di- 
rected consequences  is  ever  haunted  by  shadows  of  unfaith 
likely  to  obscure  it  completely  when  chastisement  is  not 
seen  to  fall  on  the  person  whose  wickedness  is  evident  to 
us.  It  has  been  established  that  we  do  not  wax  diviner 
by  dragging  down  the  Gods  to  our  level. 

Eosamund  knew  Lord  Avonley  too  well  to  harass  him 
with  further  petitions  and  explanations.  Equally  vain  was 
it  to  attempt  to  persuade  Beauchamp.  He  made  use  of  the 
house  in  London,  where  he  met  his  uncle  occasionally,  and 
he  called  at  Steynham  for  money,  that  he  could  have  ob- 
tained upon  the  one  condition,  which  was  no  sooner  men- 
tioned than  fiery  words  flew  in  the  room,  and  the  two 
separated.  The  leaden  look  in  Beauchamp,  noticed  by 
Cecilia  Halkett  in  their  latest  interview,  was  deepening, 


LORD  AVONLEY  361 

/ 

and  was  of  itself  a  displeasure  to  Lord  Avonley,  who  liked 
flourishing  faces,  and  said,  "  That  fellow  's  getting  the  look 
of  a  sweating  smith : "  presumptively  in  the  act  of  heating 
his  poker  at  the  furnace  to  stir  the  country. 

It  now  became  an  offence  to  him  that  Beauchamp  should 
continue  doing  this  in'  the  speeches  and  lectures  he  was 
reported  to  be  delivering ;  he  stamped  his  foot  at  the  sight 
of  his  nephew's  name  in  the  daily  journals ;  a  novel  senti- 
ment of  social  indignation  was  expressed  by  his  crying  out, 
at  the  next  request  for  money :  "  Money  to  prime  you  to 
turn  the  country  into  a  rat-hole  ?  Not  a  square  inch  of 
Pennsylvanian  paper-bonds  !  What  right  have  you  to  be 
lecturing  and  orationing  ?  You  've  no  knowledge.  All 
you  We  got  is  your  instincts,  and  that  you  show  in  your 
readiness  to  exhibit  them  like  a  monkey.  You  ought  to  be 
turned  inside  out  on  your  own  stage.  You  Ve  lumped  your 
brains  on  a  point  or  two  about  Land,  and  Commonland,  and 
the  Suffrage,  and  you  pound  away  upon  them,  as  if  you  had 
the  key  of  the  difficulty.  It 's  the  Scotchman's  metaphysics ; 
you  know  nothing  clear,  and  your  working-classes  know 
nothing  at  all ;  and  you  blow  them  with  wind  like  an  over- 
stuffed cow.  What  you  're  driving  at  is  to  get  hob-nail 
boots  to  dance  on  our  heads.  Stukely  says  you  should  be 
off  over  to  Ireland.  There  you  'd  swim  in  your  element,  and 
have  speechifying  from  instinct,  and  howling  and  pummel- 
ling too,  enough  to  last  you  out.  I  '11  hand  you  money  for 
that  expedition.  You're  one  above  the  number  wanted 
here.  You've  a  look  of  bad  powder  fit  only  to  flash  in 
the  pan.  I  saved  you  from  the  post  of  public  donkey,  by 
keeping  you  out  of  Parliament.  You  're  braying  and  kick- 
ing your  worst  for  it  still  at  these  meetings  of  yours.  A 
naval  officer  preaching  about  Republicanism  and  parcelling 
out  the  Land  !  " 

Beauchamp  replied  quietly :  "  The  lectures  I  read  are  Dr. 
Shrapnel's.  When  1  speak  I  have  his  knowledge  to  back 
my  deficiencies.  He  is  too  ill  to  work,  and  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  do  as  much  of  his  work  as  I  can  undertake." 

"  Ha !  You  're  the  old  infidel's  Amen  clerk.  It  would 
rather  astonish  orthodox  congregations  to  see  clerks  in  our 
churches  getting  into  the  pulpit  to  read  the  sermon  for  sick 
clergymen,"  said  Lgrd  Avonley.  His  countenance  fur- 
rowed.    "I'll  pay  that  bill,"  he  added. 


362  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAEEER 

"  Pay  down  half  a  million  !  "  thundered  Beauchamp ;  and 
dropping  his  voice,  "  or  go  to  him." 

"  You  remind  me,"  his  uncle  observed.  "  I  recommend 
you  to  ring  that  bell,  and  have  Mrs.  Culling  here." 

"  If  she  comes  she  will  hear  what  I  think  of  her." 

"  Then,  out  of  the  house  !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir.    You  decline  to  supply  me  with  money  ?  " 

"I  do."  ^ 

"  I  must  have  it." 

"  I  dare  say.  Money  's  a  chain-cable  for  holding  men  to 
their  senses." 

"  I  ask  you,  my  lord,  how  I  am  to  carry  on  Holdesbury  ?  " 

<^ Give  it  up.". 

"  I  shall  have  to,"  said  Beauchamp,  striving  to  be  prudent. 

"There  isn't  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  his  uncle,  upon  a  series 
of  nods  diminishing  in  their  depth  until  his  head  assumed 
a  droll  interrogative  fixity,  with  an  air  of  "  What  next  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

BETWEEN    BEAUCHAMP   AND    CECILIA 

Beauchamp  quitted  the  house  without  answering  as  to 
what  next,  and  without  seeing  Rosamund. 

In  the  matter  of  money,  as  of  his  physical  health,  he 
wanted  to  do  too  much  at  once ;  he  had  spent  largely  oi 
both  in  his  efforts  to  repair  the  injury  done  to  Dr.  Shrapnel. 
He  was  overworked,  anxious,  restless,  craving  for  a  holiday 
somewhere  —  in  France  possibly ;  he  was  all  but  leaping  on 
board  the  boat  at  times,  and,  unwilling  to  leave  his  dear 
old  friend  who  clung  to  him,  he  stayed,  keeping  his  im- 
pulses below  the  tide-mark  which  leads  to  action,  but  where 
they  do  not  yield  peace  of  spirit.  The  tone  of  Renee's 
letters  filled  him  with  misgivings.  She  wrote  word  that 
she  had  seen  M.  d'Henriel  for  the  first  time  since  his  return 
from  Italy,  and  he  was  much  changed,  and  inclined  to  thank 
Roland  for  the  lesson  he  had  received  from  him  at  the 
sword's  point.     And  next  she  urged  Beauchamp  to  marry, 


BETWEEN  BEAUCHAISIP  AND  CECILIA  B63 

SO  that  he  and  she  might  meet,  as  if  she  felt  a  necessity  for 
it.  "  I  shall  love  your  wife  ;  teach  her  to  think  amiably  of 
me,"  she  said.  And  her  letter  contained  womanly  sym- 
pathy for  him  in  his  battle  with  his  uncle.  Beauchamp 
thought  of  his  experiences  of  Cecilia's  comparative  cold- 
ness. He  replied  that  there  was  no  prospect  of  his  marry- 
ing ;  he  wished  there  were  one  of  meeting !  He  forbore 
from  writing  too  fervently,  but  he  alluded  to  happy  days 
in  Kormandy,  and  proposed  to  renew  them  if  she  would  say 
she  had  need  of  him.  He  entreated  her  to  deal  with  him 
frankly  ;  he  reminded  her  that  she  must  constantly  look  to 
him,  as  she  had  vowed  she  would,  when  in  any  kind  of 
trouble ;  and  he  declared  to  her  that  he  was  unchanged. 
He  meant,  of  an  unchanged  disposition  to  shield  and  serve 
her  ;  but  the  review  of  her  situation,  and  his  knowledge  of 
her  quick  blood,  wrought  him  to  some  jealous  lover's 
throbs,  which  led  him  to  impress  his  unchangeableness 
upon  her,  to  bind  her  to  that  standard. 

She  declined  his  visit :  not  now  ;  "  not  yet : "  and  for  that 
he  presumed  to  chide  her,  half-sincerely.  As  far  as  he 
knew  he  stood  against  everybody  save  his  old  friend  and 
Renee ;  and  she  certainly  would  have  refreshed  his  heart 
for  a  day.  In  writing,  however,  he  had  an  ominous  vision 
of  the  morrow  to  the  day ;  and,  both  for  her  sake  and  his 
own,  he  was  not  unrejoiced  to  hear  that  she  was  engaged 
day  and  night  in  nursing  her  husband.  Pursuing  his  vision 
of  the  morrow  of  an .  unreproachf ul  day  with  Renee,  the 
madness  of  taking  her  to  himself,  should  she  surrender  at 
last  to  a  third  persuasion,  struck  him  sharply,  now  that  he 
and  his  uncle  were  foot  to  foot  in  downright  conflict,  and 
money  was  the  question.  He  had  not  much  remaining  of 
his  inheritance  —*-  about  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  He  would 
have  to  vacate  Holdesbury  and  his  uncle's  town-house  in  a 
month.  Let  his  passion  be  never  so  desperate,  for  a  beg- 
gared man  to  think  of  running  away  with  a  wife,  or  of 
marrying  one,  the  folly  is  as  big  as  the  worldly  offence  : 
no  justification  is  to  be  imagined.  Nay,  and  there  is  no 
justification  for  the  breach  of  a  moral  law.  Beauchamp 
owned  it,  and  felt  that  Renee's  resistance  to  him  in  Nor- 
mandy placed  her  above  him.  He  remembered  a  saying,  of 
his  moralist :  "  We  who  interpret  things  heavenly  by  things 


S64  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

earthly  must  not  hope  to  juggle  with  them  for  our  pleas- 
ures, and  can  look  to  no  absolution  of  evil  acts."  The  school 
was  a  hard  one.  It  denied  him  holidays ;  it  cut  him  off 
from  dreams.  It  ran  him  in  heavy  harness  on  a  rough 
highroad,  allowing  no  turnings  to  right  or  left,  no  wayside 
croppings ;  with  the  simple  permission  to  him  that  he 
should  daily  get  thoroughly  tired.  And  what  was  it  Jenny 
Denham  had  said  on  the  election  day  ?  "  Does  incessant 
battling  keep  the  intellect  clear  ? '' 

His  mind  was  clear  enough  to  put  the  case,  that  either  he 
beheld  a  tremendous  magnification  of  things,  or  else  that 
other  men  did  not  attach  common  importance  to  them';  and 
he  decided  that  the  latter  was  the  fact. 

An  incessant  struggle  of  one  man  with  the  world,  which 
position  usually  ranks  his  relatives  against  him,  does  not 
conduce  to  soundness  of  judgement.  He  may  nevertheless 
be  right  in  considering  that  he  is  right  in  the  main.  The 
world  in  motion  is  not  so  wise  that  it  can  pretend  to  silence 
the  outcry  of  an  ordinarily  generous  heart  even  —  the  very 
infant  of  antagonism  to  its  methods  and  establishments.  It 
is  not  so  difficult  to  be  right  against  the  world  when  the 
heart  is  really  active ;  but  the  world  is  our  book  of  human- 
ity, and  before  insisting  that  his  handwriting  shall  occupy 
the  next  blank  page  of  it,  the  noble  rebel  is  bound  for  the 
sake  of  his  aim  to  ask  himself  how  much  of  a  giant  he  is, 
lest  he  fall  like  a  blot  on  the  page,  instead  of  inscribing  in- 
telligible characters  there. 

Moreover,  his  relatives  are  present  to  assure  him  that  he 
did  not  jump  out  of  Jupiter's  head  or  come  of  the  doctor. 
They  hang  on  him  like  an  ill-conditioned  prickly  garment ; 
and  if  he  complains  of  the  irritation  they  cause  him,  they 
one  and  all  denounce  his  irritable  skin. 

Fretted  by  his  relatives  he  cannot  be  much  of  a  giant. 

Beauchamp  looked  from  Dr.  Shrapnel  in  his  invalid's 
chair  to  his  uncle  Everard  breathing  robustly,  and  mixed 
his  uncle's  errors  with  those  of  the  world  which  honoured 
and  upheld  him.  His  remainder  of  equability  departed; 
his  impatience  increased.  His  appetite  for  work  at  Dr. 
Shrapnel's  writing-desk  was  voracious.  He  was  ready  for 
any  labour,  the  transcribing  of  papers,  writing  from  dicta- 
tion, whatsoever  was  of  service  to  Lord  Avonley's  victim ; 


BETWEEN  BEAUCHAMP   AND  CECILIA  365 

and  he  was  not  like  the  Spartan  boy  with  the  wolf  at  his 
vitals  ;  he  betrayed  it  in  the  hue  his  uncle  Everard  detested, 
in  a  visible  nervousness,  and  indulgence  in  fits  of  scorn. 
Sharp  epigrams  and  notes  of  irony  provoked  his  laughter 
more  than  fun.  He  seemed  to  acquiesce  in  some  of  the 
current  contemporary  despair  of  our  immovable  England, 
though  he  winced  at  a  satire  on  his  country,  and  attempted 
to  show  that  the  dull  dominant  class  of  money-makers  was 
the  ruin  of  her.  Wherever  he  stood  to  represent  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  as  against  Mr.  Grancey  Lespel  on  account  of  the 
Itchincope  encroachments,  he  left  a  sting  that  spread  the 
rumour  of  his  having  become  not  only  a  black  torch  of 
Kadicalism  —  our  modern  provincial  estate-holders  and  their 
wives  bestow  that  reputation  lightly  —  but  a  gentleman  with 
the  polish  scratched  off  him  in  parts.  And  he,  though  in- 
dividually he  did  not  understand  how  there  was  to  be  game 
hi  the  land  if  game-preserving  was  abolished,  signed  his 
name  R.  C.  S.  Nevil  Beauchamp  for  Dr.  Shrapnel,  in 
the  communications  directed  to  solicitors  of  the  persecutors 
of  poachers. 

His  behaviour  to  Grancey  Lespel  was  eclipsed  by  his 
treatment  of  Captain  Baskelett.  Cecil  had  ample  reason  to 
suppose  his  cousin  to  be  friendly  with  him.  He  himself 
had  forgotten  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  all  other  dissensions,  in  a 
supremely  Christian  spirit.  He  paid  his  cousin  the  com- 
pliment to  think  that  he  had  done  likewise.  At  Romfrey 
and  in  London  he  had  spoken  to  Nevil  of  his  designs  upon 
the  widow  :  Nevil  said  nothing  against  it :  and  it  was  under 
Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux's  eyes,  and  before  a  man  named 
Lydiard,  that,  never  calling  to  him  to  put  him  on  his  guard, 
Nevil  fell  foul  of  him  with  every  capital  charge  that  can  be 
brought  against  a  gentleman,  and  did  so  abuse,  worry,  and 
disgrace  him  as  to  reduce  him  to  quit  the  house  to  avoid  the 
scandal  of  a  resort  to  a  gentleman's  last  appeal  in  vindica- 
tion of  his  character.  Mrs.  Devereux  spoke  of  the  terrible 
scene  to  Cecilia,  and  Lydiard  to  Miss  Denham.  The  injured 
person  communicated  it  to  Lord  Avonley,  who  told  Colonel 
Halkett  emphatically  that  his  nephew  Cecil  deserved  well 
of  him  in  having  kept  command  of  his  temper  out  of  con- 
sideration for  the  family.  There  was  a  general  murmur  of 
the  family  over  this  incident.    The  widow  was  rich,  and  it 


366  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

ranked  among  the  unwritten  crimes  against  blood  for  one 
offshoot  of  a  great  house  wantonly  to  thwart  another  in 
the  wooing  of  her  by  humbling  him  in  her  presence,  doing 
his  utmost  to  expose  him  as  a  schemer,  a  culprit,  and  a 
poltroon. 

Could  it  be  that  Beauchamp  had  reserved  his  wrath  with 
his  cousin  to  avenge  Dr.  Shrapnel  upon  him  signally  ?  Miss 
Denham  feared  her  guardian  was  the  cause.  Lydiard  was 
indefinitely  of  her  opinion.  The  idea  struck  Cecilia  Halkett, 
and  as  an  example  of  Beauchamp's  tenacity  of  purpose  and 
sureness  of  aim  it  fascinated  her.  But  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux  did  not  appear  to  share  it.  She  objected  to 
Beauchamp's  intemperateness  and  unsparingness,  as  if  she 
was  for  conveying  a  sisterly  warning  to  Cecilia ;  and  that 
being  olf  her  mind,  she  added,  smiling  a  little  and  colouring 
a  little :  "  We  learn  only  from  men  what  men  are.''  How 
the  scene  commenced  and  whether  it  was  provoked,  she 
failed  to  recollect.  She  described  Beauchamp  as  very  self- 
contained  in  manner  throughout :  his  tongue  was  the  scor- 
pion. Cecilia  fancied  he  must  have  resembled  his  uncle 
Everard. 

Cecilia  was  conquered,  but  unclaimed.  While  support- 
ing and  approving  him  in  her  heart  she  was  dreading  to 
receive  some  new  problem  of  his  conduct ;  and  still  while 
she  blamed  him  for  not  seeking  an  interview  with  her,  she 
liked  him  for  this  instance  of  delicacy  in  the  present  state 
of  his  relations  with  Lord  Avonley. 

A  problem  of  her  own  conduct  disturbed  the  young  lady's 
clear  conception  of  herself :  and  this  was  a  ruffling  of  un- 
faithfulness in  her  love  of  Beauchamp,  that  was  betrayed 
to  her  by  her  forgetfulness  of  him  whenever  she  chanced 
to  be  with  Seymour  Austin.  In  Mr.  Austin's  company  she 
recovered  her  forfeited  repose,  her  poetry  of  life,  her  image 
of  the  independent  Cecilia  throned  above  our  dust  of  battle, 
gazing  on  broad  heaven.  She  carried  the  feeling  so  far 
that  Blackburn  Tuckham's  enthusiasm  for  Mr.  Austin  gave 
him  grace  in  her  sight,  and  praise  of  her  father's  favourite 
from  Mr.  Austin's  mouth  made  him  welcome  to  her.  The 
image  of  that  grave  capable  head,  dusty-grey  about  the 
temples,  and  the  darkly  sanguine  face  of  the  tried  man, 
which  was  that  of  a  seasoned  warrior  and  inspired  full 


BETWEEN  BEAUCHAMP   AND   CECILIA  367 

trust  in  him,  with  his  vivid  look,  his  personal  distinction, 
his  plain  devotion  to  the  country's  business,  and  the  domes- 
tic solitude  he  lived  in,  admired,  esteemed,  loved  perhaps, 
but  unpartnered,  was  often  her  refuge  and  haven  from  tem- 
pestuous Beauchamp.  She  could  see  in  vision  the  pride  of 
Seymour  Austin's  mate.  It  flushed  her  reflectively.  Con- 
quered but  not  claimed,  Cecilia  was  like  the  frozen  earth 
insensibly  moving  round  to  sunshine  in  nature,  with  one 
white  flower  in  her  breast :  as  innocent  a  sign  of  strong 
sweet  blood  as  a  woman  may  wear.  She  ascribed  to  that 
fair  mate  of  Seymour  Austin's  many  lofty  charms  of 
womanhood ;  above  all,  stateliness :  her  especial  dream  of 
an  attainable  superlative  beauty  in  women.  And  suppos- 
ing that  lady  to  be  accused  of  the  fickle  breaking  of  another 
love,  who  walked  beside  him,  matched  with  his  calm  heart 
and  one  with  him  in  counsel,  would  the  accusation  be 
repeated  by  them  that  beheld  her  husband  ?  might  it  not 
rather  be  said  that  she  had  not  deviated,  but  had  only 
stepped  higher  ?  She  chose  no  youth,  no  glistener,  no  idler  : 
it  was  her  soul  striving  upward  to  air  like  a  seed  in  the 
earth  that  raised  her  to  him  :  and  she  could  say  to  tke  man 
once  enchaining  her :  Friend,  by  the  good  you  taught  me  I 
was  led  to  this ! 

Cecilia's  reveries  flew  like  columns  of  mist  before  the  gale 
when  tidings  reached  her  of  a  positive  rupture  between  Lord 
Avonley  and  Nevil  Beauchamp,  and  of  the  mandate  to  him 
to  quit  possession  of  Holdesbury  and  the  London  house 
within  a  certain  number  of  days,  because  of  his  refusal  to 
utter  an  apology  to  Mrs.  Culling.  Angrily  on  his  behalf 
she  prepared  to  humble  herself  to  hira.  Louise  Wardour- 
Devereux  brought  them  to  a  meeting,  at  which  Cecilia,  with 
her  heart  in  her  hand,  was  icy.  Mr.  Lydiard,  prompted  by 
Mrs.  Devereux,  gave  him  better  reasons  for  her  singular 
coldness  than  Cecilia  could  give  to  herself,  and  some  time 
afterward  Beauchamp  went  to  Mount  Laurels,  where 
Colonel  Halkett  mounted  guard  over  his  daughter,  and 
behaved,  to  her  thinking,  cruelly.  "  Now  you  have  ruined 
yourself  there  's  nothing  ahead  for  you  but  to  go  to  the 
Admiralty  and  apply  for  a  ship,"  he  said,  sugaring  the 
unkindness  with  the  remark  that  the  country  would  be 
the  gainer.    He  let  fly  a  side-shot  at  London  men  calling 


368  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

themselves  military  men  who  sought  to  repair  their  for- 
tunes by  chasing  wealthy  widows,  and  complimented  Beau- 
champ  :  ^'  You  ^re  not  one  of  that  sort." 

Cecilia  looked  at  Beauchamp  stedfastly.  "  Speak,"  said 
the  look. 

But  he,  though  not  blind,  was  keenly  wounded. 

^'  Money  I  must  have,"  he  said,  half  to  the  colonel,  half 
to  himself. 

Colonel  Halkett  shrugged.  Cecilia  waited  for  a  direct- 
ness in  Beauchamp's  eyes. 

Her  father  was  too  wary  to  leave  them. 

Cecilia's  intuition  told  her  that  by  leading  to  a  discussion 
of  politics,  and  adopting  Beauchamp's  views,  she  could  kin- 
dle him.  Why  did  she  refrain  ?  It  was  that  the  conquered 
young  lady  was  a  captive,  not  an  ally.  To  touch  the  subject 
in  cold  blood,  voluntarily  to  launch  on  those  vexed  waters, 
as  if  his  cause  were  her  heart's,  as  much  as  her  heart  was 
the  man's,  she  felt  to  be  impossible.  He  at  the  same  time 
felt  that  the  heiress,  endowing  him  with  money  to  speed  the 
good  cause,  should  be  his  match  in  ardour  for  it,  otherwise 
he  was  but  a  common  adventurer,  winning  and  despoiling 
an  heiress. 

They  met  in  London.  Beauchamp  had  not  vacated  either 
Holdesbury  or  the  town-house ;  he  was  defying  his  uncle 
Everard,  and  Cecilia  thought  with  him  that  it  was  a  wise 
temerity.  She  thought  with  him  passively  altogether.  On 
this  occasion  she  had  not  to  wait  for  directness  in  his  eyes ; 
she  had  to  parry  it.  They  were  at  a  dinner-party  at  Lady 
Elsea's,  generally  the  last  place  for  seeing  Lord  Palmet,  but 
he  was  present,  and  arranged  things  neatly  for  them,  telling 
Beauchamp  that  he  acted  under  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux's 
orders.  Never  was  an  opportunity  more  propitious  for  a 
desperate  lover.  Had  it  been  Eenee  next  him,  no  petty 
worldly  scruples  of  honour  would  have  held  him  back.  And 
if  Cecilia  had  spoken  feelingly  of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  or  had  she 
simulated  a  thoughtful  interest  in  his  pursuits,  his  hesita- 
tions would  have  vanished.  As  it  was,  he  dared  to  look 
what  he  did  not  permit  himself  to  speak.  She  was  nobly 
lovely,  and  the  palpable  envy  of  men  around  cried  fool  at 
his  delays.  Beggar  and  heiress !  he  said  in  his  heart,  to 
vitalize  the  three-parts  fiction  of  the  point  of  honour  which 


BETWEEN  BEAUCHAMP  AND   CECILIA  369 

Cecilia's  beauty  was  fast  submerging.  When  she  was  leav- 
ing he  named  a  day  for  calling  to  see  her.  Colonel  Halkett 
stood  by,  and  she  answered,  "Come." 

Beauchamp  kept  the  appointment.     Cecilia  was  absent. 

He  was  unaware  that  her  father  had  taken  her  to  old 'Mrs. 
Beauchamp 's  death-bed.  Her  absence,  after  she  had  said, 
"Come,"  appeared  a  confirmation  of  her  glacial  manner 
when  they  met  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux ; 
and  he  charged  her  with  waywardness.  A  wound  of  the 
same  kind  that  we  are  inflicting  is  about  the  severest  we 
can  feel. 

Beauchamp  received  intelligence  of  his  venerable  great- 
aunt's  death  from  Blackburn  Tuckham,  and  after  the  funeral 
he  was  informed  that  eighty  thousand  pounds  had  been  be- 
queathed to  him :  a  goodly  sum  of  money  for  a  gentleman 
recently  beggared ;  yet,  as  the  political  enthusiast  could  not 
help  reckoning  (apart  from  a  fervent  sentiment  of  gratitude 
toward  his  benefactress),  scarcely  enough  to  do  much  more 
than  start  and  push  for  three  or  more  years  a  commanding 
daily  newspaper,  devoted  to  Radical  interests,  and  to  be 
entitled  The  Dawn. 

True,  he  might  now  conscientiously  approach  the  heiress, 
take  her  hand  with  an  open  countenance,  and  retain  it. 

Could  he  do  so  quite  conscientiously  ?  The  point  of  - 
honour  had  been  centred  in  his  condition  of  beggary.  Some- 
thing still  was  in  his  way.  A  quick  spring  of  his  blood  for 
air,  motion,  excitement,  holiday  freedom,  sent  his  thoughts 
travelling  whither  they  always  shot  away  when  his  redoubt- 
able natural  temper  broke  loose. 

In  the  case  of  any  other  woman  than  Cecilia  Halkett  he 
would  not  have  been  obstructed  by  the  minor  consideration 
as  to  whether  he  was  wholly  heart-free  to  ask  her  in  mar- 
riage that  instant ;  for  there  was  no  hindrance,  and  she  was 
beautiful.  She  was  exceedingly  beautiful ;  and  she  was  an 
unequalled  heiress.  She  would  be  able  with  her  wealth  to 
float  his  newspaper.  The  Dawn,  so  desired  of  Dr.  Shrapnel ! 
—  the  best  restorative  that  could  be  applied  to  him !  Every 
temptation  came  supplicating  him  to  take  the  step  which 
indeed  he  wished  for:  one  feeling  opposed.  He  really 
respected  Cecilia :  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  wor- 
shipped her  with  the  devout  worship  rendered  to  the  ideal 

24 


370        .  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

English^^oman  by  the  heart  of  the  nation.  For  him  she 
was  purity,  charity,  the  keeper  of  the  keys  of  whatsoever  is 
hel,d  precious  by  men ;  she  was  a  midway  saint,  a  light  be- 
tween day  and  darkness,  in  whom  the  spirit  in  the  flesh  shone 
like  the' growing  star  amid  thin  sanguine  colour,  the  sweeter, 
the  brighter,  the  more  translucent  the  longer  known.  And 
if  the  image  will  allow  it,  the  nearer  down  to  him,  the  holier 
she  seemed. 

How  offer  himself  when  he  was  not  perfectly  certain  that 
he  was  worthy  of  her  ? 

Some  jugglery  was  played  by  the  adept  male  heart  in 
these  later  hesitations.  Up  to  the  extent  of  his  knowledge 
of  himself,  the  man  was  fairly  sincere.  Passion  would  have 
sped  him  to  Cecilia,  but  passion  is  not  invariably  love ;  and 
we  know  what  it  can  be. 

The  glance  he  cast  over  the  water  at  Normandy  was  with- 
drawn. He  went  to  Bevisham  to  consult  with  Dr.  Shrapnel 
about  the  starting  of  a  weekly  journal,  instead  of  a  daily, 
and  a  name  for  it  —  a  serious  question :  for  though  it  is 
oftener  weekly  than  daily  that  the  dawn  is  visible  in  Eng- 
land, titles  must  not  invite  the  public  jest ;  and  the  glorious 
project  of  the  daily  Dawn  was  prudently  abandoned  for  by- 
and-by.  He  thought  himself  rich  enough  to  put  a  Kadical 
champion  weekly  in  the  field :  and  this  matter,  excepting 
the  title,  was  arranged  in  Bevisham.  Thence  he  proceeded 
to  Holdesbury,  where  he  heard  that  the  house,  grounds,  and 
farm  were  let  to  a  tenant  preparing  to  enter.  Indifferent  to 
the  blow,  he  kept  an  engagement  to  deliver  a  speech  at  the 
great  manufacturing  town  of  Gunningham,  and  then  went 
to  London,  visiting  his  uncle's  town-house  for  recent  letters. 
Not  one  was  from  Renee:  she  had  not  written  for  six 
weeks,  not  once  for  his  thrice !  A  letter  from  Cecil  Baske- 
lett  informed  him  that  "  my  lord  "  had  placed  the  town-house 
at  his  disposal.  Returning  to  dress  for  dinner  on  a  thick 
and  murky  evening  of  February,  Beauchamp  encountered 
his  cousin  on  the  steps.  He  said  to  Cecil,  "  1  sleep  here  to- 
night :  I  leave  the  house  to  you  to-morrow." 

Cecil  struck  out  his  underjaw  to  reply  :  "  Oh !  good.  You 
sleep  here  to-night.  You  are  a  fortunate  man.  I  congratu- 
late you.  I  shall  not  disturb  you.  I  have  just  entered  on 
my  occupation  of  the  house,     I  have  my  key.    Allow  me  tg 


A  TRIAL  OF   HIM  371 

recommend  you  to  go  straight  to  the  drawing-room.  And  I 
may  inform  you  that  the  Earl  of  Komf rey  is  at  the  point  of 
death.     My  lord  is  at  the  castle." 

Cecil  accompanied  his  descent  of  the  steps  with  the 
humming  of  an  opera  melody.  Beauchamp  tripped  into 
the  hall-passage.  A  young  maid-servant  held  the  door 
open,  and  she  accosted  him :  "  If  you  please,  there  is  a  lady 
up-stairs  in  the  drawing-room ;  she  speaks  foreign  English, 
sir.'^ 

Beauchamp  asked  if  the  lady  was  alone,  and  not  waiting 
for  the  answer,  though  he  listened  while  writing,  and  heard 
that  she  was  heavily  veiled,  he  tore  a  strip  from  his  note- 
book, and  carefully  traced  half-a-dozen  telegraphic  words  to 
Mrs.  Culling  at  Steynham.  His  rarely  failing  promptness, 
which  was  like  an  inspiration,  to  conceive  and  execute 
measures  for  averting  peril,  set  him  on  the  thought  of  pos- 
sibly counteracting  his  cousin  CeciFs  malignant  tongue  by 
means  of  a  message  to  Kosamund,  summoning  her  by  tele- 
graph to  come  to  town  by  the  next  train  that  night.  He 
despatched  the  old  woman  keeping  the  house,  as  trustier 
than  the  young  one,  to  the  nearest  office,  and  went  up  to 
the  drawing-room,  with  a  quick  thumping  heart  that  was 
nevertheless  as  little  apprehensive  of  an  especial  trial  and 
danger  as  if  he  had  done  nothing  at  all  to  obviate  it.  In- 
deed he  forgot  that  he  had  done  anything  when  he  turned 
the  handle  of  the  drawing-room  door. 


CHAPTER  XL 

A   TRIAL   OF   HIM 


A  LOW-BURNING  lamp  and  fire  cast  a  narrow  ring  on  the 
shadows  of  the  dusky  London  room.  One  of  the  window- 
blinds  was  drawn  up.  Beauchamp  discerned  a  shape  at 
that  window,  and  the  fear  seized  him  that  it  might  be 
Madame  d'Auffray  with  evil  news  of  Renee :  but  it  was 

Eenee's  name  he  called.     She  rose  from  her  chair,  saying, 
«  J  j> 


372  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

She  was  trembling. 

Beauchamp  asked  her  whisperingly  if  she  had  come 
alone. 

"Alone;  without  even  a  maid,"  she  murmured. 

He  pulled  down  the  blind  of  the  window  exposing  them 
to  the  square,  and  led  her  into  the  light  to  see  her  face. 
The  dimness  of  light  annoyed  him,  and  the  miserable  recep- 
tion of  her ;  this  English  weather,  and  the  gloomy  house ! 
And  how  long  had  she  been  waiting  for  him  ?  and  what 
was  the  mystery  ?  Renee  in  England  seemed  magical ;  yet 
it  was  nothing  stranger  than  an  old  dream  realized.  He 
wound  up  the  lamp,  holding  her  still  with  one  hand.  She 
was  woefully  pale ;  scarcely  able  to  bear  the  increase  of 
light. 

"  It  is  I  who  come  to  you  : "  she  was  half  audible. 

"  This  time  ! "  said  he.     "  You  have  been  suffering  ?  " 

"No." 

Her  tone  was  brief ;  not  reassuring. 

"  You  came  straight  to  me  ?  " 

"  Without  a  deviation  that  I  know  of." 

"  From  Tourdestelle  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  Tourdestelle,  Nevil  ?  " 

The  memory  of  it  quickened  his  rapture  in  reading  her 
features.  It  was  his  first  love,  his  enchantress,  who  was 
here  :  and  how  ?  Conjectures  shot  through  him  like  light- 
nings in  the  dark. 

Irrationally,  at  a  moment  when  reason  stood  in  awe,  he 
fancied  it  must  be  that  her  husband  was  dead.  He  forced 
himself  to  think  it,  and  could  have  smiled  at  the  hurry  of 
her  coming,  alone,  without  even  a  maid :  and  deeper  down 
in  him  the  devouring  question  burned  which  dreaded  the 
answer. 

But  of  old,  in  Normandy,  she  had  pledged  herself  to  join 
him  with  no  delay  when  free,  if  ever  free  ! 

So  now  she  was  free. 

One  side  of  him  glowed  in  illumination ;  the  other  was 
black  as  Winter  night ;  but  light  subdues  darkness ;  and  in 
a  situation  like  Beauchamp's,  the  blood  is  livelier  than  the 
prophetic  mind.  » 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  to  marry  ?  What  did  that 
mean  ?  "  said  he.     "  Did  you  wish  me  to  be  the  one  in 


A  TRIAL  OF  HIM  373 

chains  ?  And  yon  have  come  quite  alone !  —  you  will  give 
me  an  account  of  everything  presently  :  —  You  are  here  ! 
in  England !  and  what  a  welcome  for  you !     You  are  cold/' 

"  I  am  warmly  clad,"  said  Renee,  suffering  her  hand  to  be 
drawn  to  his  breast  at  her  arm's  length,  not  bending  with  it. 

Alive  to  his  own  indirectness,  he  was  conscious  at  once 
of  the  slight  sign  of  reservation,  and  said :  "  Tell  me  .  .  ." 
and  swerved  sheer  away  from  his  question :  "  how  is 
Madame  d'Auffray  ?  " 

"  Agnes  ?    I  left  her  at  Tourdestelle, "  said  Renee. 

^'  And  Roland  ?     He  never  writes  to  me." 

"  Neither  he  nor  I  write  much.  He  is  at  the  military 
camp  of  instruction  in  the  North." 

"  He  will  run  over  to  us." 

"  Do  not  expect  it." 

"Why  not?" 

Renee  sighed.  "We  shall  have  to  live,  longer  than  I 
look  for  .  .  ."she  stopped. — "Why  do  you  ask  me  why 
not  ?  He  is  fond  of  us  both,  and  sorry  for  us  ;  but  have 
you  forgotten  Roland  that  morning  on  the  Adriatic  ?  " 

Beauchamp  pressed  her  hand.  The  stroke  of  Then  and 
Now  rang  in  his  breast  like  a  bell  instead  of  a  bounding 
heart.  Something  had  stunned  his  heart.  He  had  no 
clear  central  feeling ;  he  tried  to  gather  it  from  her  touch, 
from  his  joy  in  beholding  her  and  sitting  with  her  alone, 
from  the  grace  of  her  figure,  the  wild  sweetness  of  her 
eyes,  and  the  beloved  foreign  lips  bewitching  him  with 
their  exquisite  French  and  perfection  of  speech. 

His  nature  was  too  prompt  in  responding  to  such  a  call  on 
it  for  resolute  warmth. 

"  If  I  had  been  firmer  then,  or  you  one  year  older ! "  he 
said. 

"  That  girl  in  Venice  had  no  courage,"  said  Renee. 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  about  the  room. 

Her  instinct  of  love  sounded  her  lover  through,  and  felt 
the  deficiency  or  the  contrariety  in  him,  as  surely  as  musical 
ears  are  pained  by  a  discord  that  they  require  no  touchstone 
to  detect.  Passion  has  the  sensitiveness  of  fever,  and  is  as 
cruelly  chilled  by  a  tepid  air. 

"  Yes,  a  London  house  after  Venice  and  Normandy  ! "  said 
Beauchamp  following  her  look. 


374  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"  Sicily  :  do  not  omit  Syracuse ;  you  were  in  your  naval 
uniform:  Normandy  was  our  third  meeting,"  said  Eenee. 
"  This  is  the  fourth.     I  should  have  reckoned  that." 

"  Why  ?     Superstitiously  ?  " 

"  We  cannot  be  entirely  wise  when  we  have  staked  our 
fate.  Sailors  are  credulous :  you  know  them.  Women  are 
like  them  when  they  embark.  .  .  .  Three  chances  !  Who 
can  boast  of  so  many,  and  expect  one  more  !  Will  you  take 
me  to  my  hotel,  Nevil  ?  " 

The  fiction  of  her  being  free  could  not  be  sustained. 

"  Take  you  and  leave  you  ?  I  am  absolutely  at  your 
command.  But  leave  you  ?  You  are  alone :  and  you  have 
told  me  nothing." 

What  was  there  to  tell  ?  The  desperate  act  was  apparent, 
and  told  all. 

Renee's  dark  eyelashes  lifted  on  him,  and  dropped. 

"  Then  things  are  as  I  left  them  in  Normandy  ?  "  s^id  he. 

She  replied :  "  Almost." 

He  quivered  at  the  solitary  word  ;  for  his  conscience  was 
on  edge.  It  ran  the  shrewdest  irony  through  him,  inex- 
plicably. "  Almost : "  that  is,  "  with  this  poor  difference  of 
one  person,  now  finding  herself  worthless,  subtracted  from 
the  list ;  no  other ;  it  should  be  little  to  them  as  it  is  little 
to  you :  "  or,  reversing  it,  the  substance  of  the  word  became 
magnified  and  intensified  by  its  humble  slightness :  "  Things 
are  the  same,  but  for  the  jewel  of  the  province,  a  lustre  of 
France,  lured  hither  to  her  eclipse  : ''  —  meanings  various, 
indistinguishable,  thrilling  and  piercing  sad  as  the  half- 
tones humming  round  the  note  of  a  strung  wire,  which  is  a 
blunt  single  note  to  the  common  ear. 

Beauchamp  sprang  to  his  feet  and  bent  above  her  :  "  You 
have  come  to  me,  for  the  love  of  me,  to  give  yourself  to  me, 
and  for  ever,  for  good,  till  death?  Speak,  my  beloved 
Eenee." 

Her  eyes  were  raised  to  his  :  "  You  see  me  here.  It  is  for 
you  to  speak." 

"  I  do.  There  ^s  nothing  I  ask  for  now  —  if  the  step  can't 
be  retrieved." 

"  The  step  retrieved,  my  friend  ?  There  is  no  step  back- 
ward in  life." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  you,  Een^e." 


A  TRIAL  OF  HIM  375 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered  hurriedly. 

"  If  we  discover  that  the  step  is  a  wrong  one  ?  "  he  pur- 
sued :  "  why  is  there  no  step  backward  ?  " 

"  I  am  talking  of  women,"  said  E,enee.' 

"  Why  not  for  women  ?  " 

"  Honourable  women,  I  mean,"  said  Renee. 

Beauchamp  inclined  to  forget  his  position  in  finding  mat- 
ter to  contest. 

Yet  it  is  beyond  contest  that  there  is  no  step  backward 
in  life.  She  spoke  well ;  better  than  he,  and  she  won  his 
deference  by  it.  Not  only  she  spoke  better  :  she  was  truer, 
distincter,  braver:  and  a  man  ever  on  the  look-out  for 
superior  qualities,  and  ready  to  bow  to  them,  could  not 
refuse  her  homage.  With  that  a  saving  sense  of  power 
quitted  him. 

'^  You  wtote  to  me  that  you  were  unchanged,  Nevil." 

"lam." 

"  So,  then,  I  came." 

His  rejoinder  was  the  dumb  one,  commonly  eloquent  and 
satisfactory. 

Eenee  shut  her  eyes  with  a  painful  rigour  of  endurance. 

She  opened  them  to  look  at  him  steadily. 

The  desperate  act  of  her  flight  demanded  immediate 
recognition  from  him  in  simple  language  and  a  practical 
seconding  of  it.     There  was  the  test. 

"  I  cannot  stay  in  this  house,  Nevil ;  take  me  away." 

She  named  her  hotel  in  her  French  English,  and  the 
sound  of  it  penetrated  him  with  remorseful  pity.  It  was 
for  him,  and  of  his  doing,  that  she  was  in  an  alien  land  and 
an  outcast ! 

"  This  house  is  wretched  for  you,"  said  he :  "  and  you 
must  be  hungry.     Let  me  .  .  ." 

"  I  cannot  eat.  I  will  ask  you :  "  she  paused,  drawing  on 
her  energies,  and  keeping  down  the  throbs  of  her  heart: 
"  this  :  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soiil." 

"  As  in  Normandy  ?  " 

(c  Yes." 

"In  Venice?" 

"  As  from  the  first,  Renee !     That  I  can  swear." 

"Oaths  are  foolish.     I  meant  to  ask  you  —  my  friend, 


376  BEAFCHAMP'S   CABEER 

there  is  no  question  in  my  mind  of  any  other  woman  :  I  see 
you  love  me :  I  am  so  used- to  consider  myself  the  vain  and 
cowardly  creature,  and  you  the  boldest  and*  faithf ullest  of 
men,  that  I  could  not  abandon  the  habit  if  I  would :  I  started 
confiding  in  you,  sure  that  I  should  come  to  land.  But  I 
have  to  ask  you :  —  to  me  you  are  truth  :  I  have  no  claim  on 
my  lover  for  anything  but  the  answer  to  this :  —  Am  I  a 
burden  to  you  ?  " 

His  brows  flew  up  in  furrows.  He  drew  a  heavy  breath, 
for  never  had  he  loved  her  more  admiringly,  and  never 
on  such  equal  terms.  She  was  his  mate  in  love  and  dar- 
ing at  least.  A  sorrowful  comparison  struck  him,  of  a 
little  boat  sailing  out  to  a  vessel  in  deep  seas  and  left  to 
founder. 

Without  knotting  his  mind  to  acknowledge  or  deny  the 
burden,  for  he  could  do  neither,  he  stood  silent,  staring  at 
her,  not  so  much  in  weakness  as  in  positive  mental  division. 
No,  would  be  false  ;  and  Yes,  not  less  false ;  and  if  the  step 
was  irretrievable,  to  say  Yes  would  be  to  plunge  a  dagger  in 
her  bosom ;  but  No  was  a  vain  deceit  involving  a  double 
wreck.  Assuredly  a  man  standing  against  the  world  in  a 
good  cause,  with  a  runaway  wife  on  his  hands,  carries  a 
burden,  however  precious  it  be  to  him. 

A  smile  of  her  lips,  parted  in  an  anguish  of  expectancy, 
went  to  death  over  Renee's  face.  She  looked  at  him 
tenderly.  "  The  truth,"  she  murmured  to  herself,  and  her 
eyelids  fell. 

"I  am  ready  to  bear  anything,"  said  Beauchamp.  "I 
weigh  what  you  ask  me,  that  is  all.  You  a  burden  to  me  ? 
But  when  you  ask  me,  you  make  me  turn  round  and  inquire 
how  we  stand  before  the  world." 

"  The  world  does  not  stone  men,"  said  Eenee. 

"  Can't  I  make  you  feel  that  I  am  not  thinking  of  myself  ?  " 
Beauchamp  stamped  in  his  extreme  perplexity.  He  was 
gagged ;  he  could  not  possibly  talk  to  her,  who  had  cast  the 
die,  of  his  later  notions  of  morality  and  the  world's  dues, 
fees,  and  claims  on  us. 

"  No,  friend,  I  am  not  complaining."  Ken^e  put  out  her 
hand  to  him :  with  compasssionate  irony  feigning  to  have 
heard  excuses.  "  What  right  have  I  to  complain  ?  I  have 
not  the  sensation.    I  could  not  expect  you  to  be  everlastingly 


A  TRIAL   OF  HIM  377 

the  sentinel  of  love.     Three  times  I  rejected  you !  Now  that 
I  have  lost  my  father  —  Oh !  poor  father :  I  trifled  with  my 
lover,  I  tricked  him  that  my  father  might  live  in  peace. 
He   is   dead.     I   wished  you  to   marry  one  of  your  own 
countrywomen,  Nevil.      You  said  it  was  impossible ;   and 
I,  with  my  snake  at  my  heart,  and  a  husband  grateful  for 
nursing  and  whimpering  to  me  for  his  youth  like  a  beggar 
on  the  road,  I  thought  I  owed  you  this  debt  of  body  and 
soul,  to  prove  to  you  I  have  some  courage ;  and  for  myself, 
to  reward  myself  for  my  long  captivity  and  misery  with  one 
year  of  life :   and  adieu  to  Roland  my  brother !    adieu  to 
friends  !  adieu  to  France  !  Italy  was  our  home.     I  dreamed 
of  one  year  in  Italy  ;  I  fancied  it  might  be  two ;  more  than 
that  was  unimaginable.    Prisoners  of  long  date  do  not  hope ; 
they  do  not  calculate :  air,  light,  they  say ;  to  breathe  freely 
and  drop  down  !     They  are  reduced  to  the  instincts  of  the 
beasts.     I  thought  I  might  give  you  happiness,  pay  part  of 
my  debt  to  you.      Are   you   remembering  Count   Henri  ? 
That  paints  what  I  was !     I  could  fly  to  that  for  a  taste  of 
life  !  a  dance  to  death !     And  again  you  ask :   Why,  if  I 
loved  you  then,  not  turn  to  you  in  preference  ?    No,  you 
have  answered  it  yourself,  Nevil  ;  —  on  that  day  in  the  boat, 
when  generosity  in  a  man  so  surprised  me,  it  seemed  a  mir- 
acle to  me ;  and  it  was,  in  his  divination.     How  I  thank  my 
dear  brother  Roland  for  saving  me  the  sight  of  you  con- 
demned to  fight,  against  your  conscience  !     He  taught  poor 
M.  d'Henriel  his   lesson.      You,  Nevil,  were    my  teacher. 
And  see  how  it  hangs  :   there  was  mercy  for  me   in    not 
having  drawn  down  my  father's  anger  on  my  heart's  be- 
loved.    He  loved  you.     He  pitied  us.     He  reproached  him- 
self.    In  his  last  days  he  was  taught  to  suspect  our  story : 
perhaps  from  Roland ;  perhaps  I  breathed  it  without  speak- 
ing.    He  called  heaven's  blessings  on  you.     He  spoke  of 
you  with  tears,  clutching  my  hand.     He  made  me  feel  he 
would  have  cried  out :  ^  If  I  were  leaving  her  with  Nevil 
Beauchamp ! '   and  '  Beauchamp,'  I  heard  him  murmuring 
once  :  '  take  down  Froissart : '  he  named  a  chapter.     It  was 
curious:  if  he  uttered  my  name  Renee,  yours,  ^Nevil,'  soon 
followed.     That  was  noticed  by  Roland.     Hope  for  us,  he 
could  not  have  had ;  as  little  as  I !     But  we  were  his  two : 
his  children.     I  buried  him  —  I  thought  he  would  know  our 


3T8 

innocence,  and  now  pardon  our  love.  I  read  your  letters, 
from  my  name  at  the  beginning,  to  yours  at  the  end,  and 
from  yours  back  to  mine,  and  between  the  lines,  for  any 
doubtful  spot :  and  oh,  rash !  But  I  would  not  retrace  the 
step  for  my  own  sake.  I  am  certain  of  your  love  for  me, 
though  .  .  ."  She  paused  :  "  Yes,  T  am  certain  of  it.  And 
if  I  am  a  burden  to  you  ?  " 

"About  as  much  as  the  air,  which  I  can't  do  without 
since  I  began  to  breathe  it,'^  said  Beauchamp,  more  clear- 
mindedly  now  that  he  supposed  he  was  addressing  armind, 
and  with  a  peril  to  himself  that  escaped  his  vigilance. 
There  was  a  secret  intoxication  for  him  already  in  the 
half-certainty  that  the  step  could  not  be  retraced.  The 
idea  that  he  might  reason  with  her,  made  her  seductive  to 
the  heart  and  head  of  him. 

"  I  am  passably  rich,  Nevil,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  care 
for  money,  except  that  it  gives  wings.  Eoland  inherits  the 
ch§,teau  in  Touraine.  I  have  one  in  Burgundy,  and  rentes 
and  shares,  my  notary  informs  me." 

"  I  have  money,"  said  he.  His  heart  began  beating  vio- 
lently. He  lost  sight  of  his  intention  of  reasoning.  "Good 
God !  if  you  were  free ! '' 

She  faltered:  "  At  Tourdestelle  .  .  P 

"  Yes,  and  I  am  unchanged,"  Beauchamp  cried  out. 
"Your  life  there  was  horrible,  and  mine's  intolerable." 
He  stretched  his  arms  cramped  like  the  yawning  of  a 
wretch  in  fetters.  That  which  he  would  and  would  not 
became  so  intervolved  that  he  deemed  it  reasonable  to 
instance  their  common  misery  as  a  ground  for  their  union 
against  the  world.  And  what  has  that  world  done  for 
us,  that  a  joy  so  immeasurable  should  be  rejected  on  its 
behalf  ?  And  what  have  we  succeeded  in  doing,  that  the 
childish  effort  to  move  it  should  be  continued  at  such  a 
cost? 

For  years,  down  to  one  year  back,  and  less  —  yesterday, 
it  could  be  said  —  all  human  blessedness  appeared  to  him 
in  the  person  of  Renee,  given  him  under  any  condition 
whatsoever.  She  was  not  less  adorable  now.  In  her 
decision,  and  a  courage  that  he  especially  prized  in  women, 
she  was  a  sweeter  to  him  than  when  he  was  with  her  in 
France :   too  sweet  to  be  looked  at  and  refused. 


A  TRIAL  OF   HIM  379 

"  But  we  must  live  in  England,"  he  cried  abruptly,  out 
of  his  inner  mind. 

"  Oh !  not  England,  Italy,  Italy ! "  Renee  exclaimed : 
"  Italy,  or  Greece :  anywhere  where  we  have  sunlight. 
Mountains  and  valleys  are  my  dream.  Promise  it,  Nevil. 
I  will  obey  you ;  but  this  is  my  wish.  Take  me  through 
Venice,  that  I  may  look  at  myself  and  wonder.  We  can 
live  at  sea,  in  a  yacht ;  anywhere  with  you  but  in  England. 
This  country  frowns  on  me  ;  I  can  hardly  fetch  my  breath 
here,  I  am  suffocated.  The  people  all  walk  in  lines  in  Eng- 
land. Not  here,  Nevil !  They  are  good  people,  I  am  sure  ; 
and  it  is  your  country :  but  their  faces  chill  me,  their  voices 
grate  ;  I  should  never  understand  them  ;  they  would  be  to 
me  like  their  fogs  eternally ;  and  I  to  them  ?  0  me !  it 
would  be  like  hearing  sentence  in  the  dampness  of  the 
shroud  perpetually.  Again  I  say  I  do  not  doubt  that  they 
are  very  good  :  they  claim  to  be ;  they  judge  others  ;  they 
may  know  how  to  make  themselves  happy  in  their  climate  ; 
it  is  common  to  most  creatures  to  no  so,  or  to  imagine  it. 
Nevil !  not  England  !  " 

Truly  "  the  mad  commander  and  his  French  marquise  " 
of  the  Bevisham  Election  ballad  would  make  a  pretty  figure 
in  England ! 

His  friends  of  his  own  class  would  be  mouthing  it.  The 
story  would  be  a  dogging  shadow  of  his  public  life,  and, 
quite  as  ba>d,  a  reflection  on  his  party.  He  heard  the 
yelping  tongues  of  the  cynics .  He  saw  the  consternation  and 
grief  of  his  old  Bevisham  hero,  his  leader  and  his  teacher. 

"Florence,"  he  said,  musing  on  the  prospect  of  exile 
and  idleness :  "  there 's  a  kind  of  society  1;o  be  had  in 
Florence." 

Renee  asked  him  if  he  cared  so  much  for  society. 

He  replied  that  women  must  have  it,  just  as  men  must 
have  exercise. 

"  Old  women,  Nevil ;  intriguers,  tattlers." 

"  Young  women,  Renee." 

She  signified  no. 

He  shook  the  head  of  superior  knowledge  paternally. 

Her  instinct  of  comedy  set  a  dimple  faintly  working  in 
her  cheek. 

"Not  if  they  love,  Nevil." 


380  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  "  a  man  does  not  like  to  see  the 
woman  he  loves  banished  by  society  and  browbeaten." 

"  Putting  me  aside,  do  you  care  for  it,  Nevil  ?  " 

"  Personally  not  a  jot." 

"  I  am  convinced  of  that,"  said  E,enee. 

She  spoke  suspiciously  sweetly,  appearing  perfect  can- 
dour. 

The  change  in  him  was  perceptible  to  her.  The  nature 
of  the  change  was  unfathomable. 

She  tried  her  wits  at  the  riddle.  But  though  she  could 
be  an  actress  before  him  with  little  difficulty,  the  torment 
of  her  situation  roused  the  fever  within  her  at  a  bare  effort 
to  think  acutely.  Scarlet  suffused  her  face  :  her  brain 
whirled. 

"  Remember,  dearest,  I  have  but  offered  myself :  you  have 
your  choice.  I  can  press  on.  Yes,  I  know  well  I  speak  to 
Nevil  Beauchamp ;  you  have  drilled  me  to  trust  you  and 
your  word  as  a  soldier  trusts  to  his  officer  —  once  a  faint- 
hearted soldier !  I  need  not  remind  you :  fronting  the*- 
enemy  now,  in  hard  truth.  But  I  want  your  whole  heart^ 
to  decide.  Give  me  no  silly  compassion  !  Would  it  have 
been  better  to  me  to  have  written  to  you?  If  I  h^d^ 
written  I  should  have  clipped  my  glorious  impulse,  brought 
myself  dpwn  to  earth  with  my  own  arrow.  I  did  not  write, 
for  I  believed  in  you. " 

So  firm  had  been  her  faith  in  him  that  her  visions  of  him 
on  the  passage  to  England  had  resolved  all  to  one  flash  of 
blood-warm  welcome  awaiting  her  :  ~and  it  says  much  for 
her  natural  generosity  that  the  savage  delicacy  of  a  woman 
placed  as  she  now  was,  did  not  take  a  mortal  hurt  from  the 
apparent  voidness  of  this  home  of  his  bosom.  The  pas- 
sionate gladness  of  the  lover  was  wanting :  the  chivalrous 
valiancy  of  manful  joy. 

»    Renee  shivered  at  the  cloud  thickening  over  her  new 
light  of  intrepid  defiant  life. 

^' Think  it  not  improbable  that  I  have  weighed  every- 
thing I  surrender  in  quitting  Prance,"  she  said. 

Remorse  wrestled  with  Beauchamp  and  flung  him  at  her 
feet. 

Renee  remarked  on  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

He  promised  to  conduct  her  to  her  hotel  immediately. 


A  TKIAL  OF  HIM  381 

"And  to-morrow  ?  "  said  Renee,  simply,  but  breathlessly. 

*^  To-morrow,  let  it  be  Italy  !  But  first  I  telegraph, 
to  Eoland  and  Tourdestelle.  1  can't  run  and  hide.  The 
step  may  be  retrieved :  or  no,  you  are  right ;  the  step  can- 
not, but  the  next  to  it  may  be  stopped  —  that  was  the 
meaning  I  had !  I  '11  try.  It 's  cutting  my  hand  off,  tear- 
ing my  heart  out ;  but  I  will.  0  that  you  were  free  !  You 
left  your  husband  at  Tourdestelle  ?  " 

"  I  presume  he  is  there  at  present :  he  was  in  Paris  when 
I  left." 

Beauchamp  spoke  hoarsely  and  incoherently  in  contrast' 
with  her  composure :  "  You  will  misunderstand  me  for  a 
day  or  two,  Renee.  I  say  if  you  were  free  I  should  have 
my  first  love  mine  for  ever.  Don't  fear  me:  I  have  no 
right  even  to  press  your  fingers.  He  may  throw  you  into 
my  arms.  Now  you  are  the  same  as  if  you  were  in  your 
own  home  :  and  you  must  accept  me  for  your  guide.  By 
all  I  hope  for  in  life,  I  '11  see  you  through  it,  and  keep  the 
^dogs  from  barking,  if  I  can.  Thousands  are  ready  to  give 
tongue.  And  if  they  can  get  me  in  the  character  of  a  law- 
breaker !  —  I  hear  them." 

"  Are  you  imagining,  Nevil,  that  there  is  a  possibility  of 
my  returning  to  him  ?  " 

"  To  your  place  in  the  world  !  You  have  not  had  to 
endure  tyranny  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  had  a  certain  respect  for  a  tyrant,  Nevil. 
At  least  I  should  have  had  an  occupation  in  mocking  him 
and  conspiring  against  him.  Tyranny  !  There  would  have 
been  some  amusement  to  me  in  that." 

"  It  was  neglect." 

"  If  I  could  still  charge  it  on  neglect,  Nevil !  Neglect  is 
very  endurable.  He  rewards  me  for  nursing  him  ...  he 
rewards  me  with  a  little  persecution  :  wives  should  be 
flattered  by  it:  it  comes  late." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Beauchamp,  oppressed  and  impatient. 

Renee  sank  her  voice. 

Something  in  the  run  of  the  unaccented  French,  "  Son 
amour,  mon  ami,"  drove  the  significance  of  the  bitterness 
of  the  life  she  had  left  behind  her  burningly  through  him. 
This  was  to  have  fled  from  a  dragon !  was  the  lover's 
thought :  he  perceived  the  motive  of  her  flight :  and  it  was 


382  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

a  vindication  of  it  that  appealed  to  him  irresistibly.  The 
proposal  for  her  return  grew  hideous :  and  this  ever 
multiplying  horror  and  sting  of  the  love  of  a  married 
woman  came  on  him  with  a  fresh  throbbing  shock,  more 
venom. 

He  felt  for  himself  now,  and  now  he  was  full  of  feeling 
for  her.  Impossible  that  she  should  return  !  Tourdestelle 
shone  to  him  like  a.  gaping  chasm  of  fire.  And  becoming 
entirely  selfish  he  impressed  his  total  abnegation  of  self 
upon  Kenee  so  that  she  could  have  worshipped  him.  A 
lover  ,that  was  like  a  starry  frost,  froze  her  veins,  bewil- 
dered her  intelligence.  She  yearned  for  meridian  warmth, 
for  repose  in  a  directing  hand ;  and  let  it  be  hard  as  one 
that  grasps  a  sword :  what  matter  ?  unhesitatingness  was 
the  warrior  virtue  of  her  desire.  And  for  herself  the  worst 
might  happen  if  only  she  were  borne  along.  Let  her  life 
be  torn  and  streaming  like  the  flag  of  battle,  it  must  be 
forward  to  the  end. 

That  was  a  quality  of  godless  young  heroism  not  unex- 
hausted in  Beauchamp's  blood.  Eeanimated  by  him,  she 
awakened  his  imagination  of  the  vagrant  splendours  of 
existence  and  the  rebel  delights  which  have  their  own  laws 
and  "  nature  "  for  an  applauding  mother.  Radiant  Alps  rose 
in  his  eyes,  and  the  morning  born  in  the  night :  suns  that 
from  mountain  and  valley,  over  sea  and  desert,  called  on  all 
earth  to  witness  their  death.  The  magnificence  of  the  con- 
tempt of  humanity  posed  before  him  superbly  satanesque, 
grand  as  thunder  among  the  crags  :  and  it  was  not  a  sensual 
cry  that  summoned  him  from  his  pedlar  labours  pack  on 
back  along  the  level  road,  to  live  and  breathe  deep,  glori- 
ously mated :  Renee  kindled  his  romantic  spirit,  and  could 
strike  the  feeling  into  him  that  to  be  proud  of  his  posses- 
sion of  her  was  to  conquer  the  fretful  vanity  to  possess. 
She  was  not  a  woman  of  wiles  and  lures. 

Once  or  twice  she  consulted  her  watch  :  but  as  she  pro- 
fessed to  have  no  hunger,  Beauchamp's  entreaty  to  her  to 
stay  prevailed,  and  the  subtle  form  of  compliment  to  his 
knightly  manliness  in  her  remaining  with  him,  gave  him  a 
new  sense  of  pleasure  that  hung  round  her  companionable 
conversation,  deepening  the  meaning  of  the  words,  or  some- 
times contrasting  the  sweet  surface  commonplace  with  the 


A  LAME  VICTORY  383 

undercurrent  of  strangeness  in  their  hearts,  and  the  reality 
of  a  tragic  position.  Her  musical  volubility  flowed  to  en- 
trance and  divert  him,  as  it  did. 

Suddenly  Beauchamp  glanced  upward. 

Renee  turned  from  a  startled  contemplation  of  his  frown, 
and  beheld  Mrs.  Rosamund  Culling  in  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

A   LAME   VICTORY 


The  intruder  was  not  a  person  that  had  power  to  divide 
them ;  yet  she  came  between  their  hearts  with  a  touch  of 
steel. 

"  I  am  here  in  obedience  to  your  commands  in  your  tele- 
gram of  this  evening,"  Rosamund  replied  to  Beauchamp's 
hard  stare  at  her;  she  courteously  spoke  French,  and  ac- 
quitted herself  demurely  of  a  bow  to  the  lady  present. 

Renee  withdrew  her  serious  eyes  from  Beauchamp.  She 
rose  and  acknowledged  the  bow. 

"  It  is  my  first  visit  to  England,  madame." 

"  I  could  have  desired,  Madame  la  marquise,  more  agree- 
able weather  for  you." 

'^  My  friends  in  England  will  dispel  the  bad  weather  for 
me,  madame  ;  "  Renee  smiled  softly  :  "  I  have  been  study- 
ing my  French-English  phrase-book,  that  I  may  learn  how 
dialogues  are  conducted  in  your  country  to  lead  to  certain 
ceremonies  when  old  friends  meet,  and  without  my  book  T 
am  at  fault.  I  am  longing  to  be  embraced  by  you  ...  if 
it  will  not  be  oifending  your  rules  ?  " 

Rosamund  succumbed  to  the  seductive  woman,  whose 
gentle  tooth  bit  through  her  tutored  simplicity  of  manner 
and  natural  graciousness,  administering  its  reproof,  and 
eluding  a  retort  or  an  excuse. 

She  gave  the  embrace.  In  doing  so  she  fell  upon  her 
conscious  awkwardness  for  an  expression  of  reserve  that 
should  be  as  good  as  irony  for  irony,  though  where  Madame 
de  Rouaillout's  irony  lay,  or  whether  it  was  irony  at  all,  our 


384  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

excellent  English  dame  could  not  have  stated,  after  the 
feeling  of  indignant  prudery  responding  to  it  so  guiltily- 
had  subsided. 

Beauchamp  asked  her  if  she  had  brought  servants  with 
her  ;  and  it  gratified  her  to  see  that  he  was  no  actor  fitted 
to  carry  a  scene  through  in  virtue's  name  and  vice's  mask 
with  this  actress. 

She  replied,  "I  have  brought  a  man  and  a  maid-servant. 
The  establishment  will  be  in  town  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
in  time  for  my  lord's  return  from  the  Castle." 

"  You  can  have  them  up  to-morrow  morning.'^ 

"I  could,"  Rosamund  admitted  the  possibility.  Her 
idolatry  of  him  was  tried  on  hearing  him  press  the  hospital- 
ity of  the  house  upon  Madame  de  Rouaillout,  and  observing 
the  lady's  transparent  feint  of  a  reluctant  yielding.  For 
the  voluble  Frenchwoman  scarcely  found  a  word  to  utter : 
she  protested  languidly  that  she  preferred  the  independence 
of  her  hotel,  and  fluttered  a  singular  look  at  him,  as  if  over- 
come by  his  vehement  determination  to  have  her  in  the 
house.  Undoubtedly  she  had  a  taking  face  and  style.  His 
infatuation,  nevertheless,  appeared  to  Eosamund  utter  de- 
mentedness,  considering  this  woman's  position,  and  Cecilia 
Halkett's  beauty  and  wealth,  and  that  the  house  was  no 
longer  at  his  disposal.  He  was  really  distracted,  to  judge 
by  his  forehead,  or  else  he  was  over-acting  his  part. 

The  absence  of  a  cook  in  the  house,  Rosamund  remarked, 
must  prevent  her  from  seconding  Captain  Beauchamp's 
invitation. 

He  turned  on  her  witheringly.  "  The  telegraph  will  do 
that.  You  're  in  London ;  cooks  can  be  had  by  dozens. 
Madame  de  Rouaillout  is  alone  here ;  she  has  come  to  see 
a  little  of  England,  and  you  will  do  the  honours  of  the 
house." 

^'  M.  le  marquis  is  not  in  London  ?  "  said  Rosamund,  dis- 
regarding the  dumb  imprecation  she  saw  on  Beauchamp's 
features. 

"No,  madame,  my  husband  is  not  in  London,"  Ren^e 
rejoined  collectedly. 

'^  See  to  the  necessary  comforts  of  the  house  instantly," 
said  Beauchamp,  and  telling  Renee,  without  listening  to  her, 
that  he  had  to  issue  orders,  he  led  Rosamund,  who  was  out 


A  LAME  VICTORY  385 

of  breath  at  the  effrontery  of  the  pair,  toward  the  door. 
"  Are  yoQ  blind,  ma'am  ?  Have  you  gone  foolish  ?  What 
should  I  have  sent  for  you  for,  but  to  protect  her  ?  I  see 
your  mind ;  and  off  with  the  prude,  pray  !  Madame  will 
have  my  room ;  clear  away  every  sign  of  me  there.  I  sleep 
out ;  I  can  find  a  bed  anywhere.  And  bolt  and  chain  the 
house-door  to-night  against  Cecil  Baskelett ;  he  informs  me 
that  he  has  taken  possession.'' 

Rosamund's  countenance  had  become  less  austere. 

"  Captain  Baskelett ! "  she  exclaimed,  leaning  to  Beau- 
champ's  views  on  the  side  of  her  animosity  to  Cecil ;  ^'  he 
has  been  promised  by  his  uncle  the  use  of  a  set  of  rooms 
during  the  year,  when  the  mistress  of  the  house  is  not 
in  occupation.  I  stipulated  expressly  that  he  was  to  see 
you  and  suit  himself  to  your  convenience,  and  to  let  me  hear 
that  you  and  he  had  agreed  to  an  arrangement,  before  he 
entered  the  house.  He  has  no  right  to  be  here,  and  I  shall 
have  no  hesitation  in  locking  him  out." 

Beauchamp  bade  her  go,  and  not  be  away  more  than  five 
minutes;  and  then  he  would  drive  to  the  hotel  for  the 
luggage. 

She  scanned  him  for  a  look  of  ingenuousness  that  might 
be  trusted,  and  laughed  in  her  heart  at  her  credulity  for 
expecting  it  of  a  man  in  such  a  case.  She  saw  Kenee 
sitting  stonily,  too  proudly  self-respecting  to  put  on  a  mask 
of  flippant  ease.  These  lovers  might  be  accomplices  in 
deceiving  her ;  they  were  not  happy  ones,  and  that  appeared 
to  her  to  be  some  assurance  that  she  did  well  in  obeying 
him. 

Beauchamp  closed  the  door  on  her.  He  walked  back  to 
Renee  with  a  thoughtful  air  that  was  consciously  acted  ;  his 
only  thought  being  —  now  she  knows  me ! 

Renee  looked  up  at  him  once.  Her  eyes  were  unaccus- 
ing,  unquestioning. 

With  the  violation  of  the  secrecy  of  her  flight  she  had  lost 
her  initiative  and  her  intrepidity.  The  world  of  human 
eyes  glared  on  her  through  the  windows  of  the  two  she  had 
been  exposed  to,  paralyzing  her  brain  and  caging  her  spirit 
of  revolt.  That  keen  wakefulness  of  her  self-defensive 
social  instinct  helped  her  to  an  understanding  of  her  lover's 
plan  to  preserve  her   reputation,  or    rather  to  give  her  a 

25 


386  BEAUCHAIVIP'S  CAREER 

corner  of  retreat  in  shielding  the  worthless  thing  —  twice 
detested  as  her  cloak  of  slavery  coming  from  him !  She 
comprehended  no  more.  She  was  a  house  of  nerves  crowd- 
ing in  against  her  soul  like  fiery  thorns,  and  had  no  space 
within  her  torture  for  a  sensation  of  gratitude  or  suspicion ; 
but  feeling  herself  hurried  along  at  lightning  speed  to  some 
dreadful  shock,  her  witless  imagination  apprehended  it  in 
his  voice:  not  what  he  might  say,  only  the  sound.  She 
feared  to  hear  him  speak,  as  the  shrinking  ear  fears  a 
thunder  at  the  cavity ;  yet  suspense  was  worse  than  the 
downward-driving   silence. 

The  pang  struck  her  when  he  uttered  some  words  about 
Mrs.  Culling,  and  protection,  and  Roland. 

She  thanked  him. 

So  have  common  executioners  been  thanked  by  queenly 
ladies  baring  their  necks  to  the  axe. 

He  called  up  the  pain  he  suffered  to  vindicate  him  ;  and  it 
was  really  an  agony  of  a  man  torn  to  pieces. 

"  I  have  done  the  best." 

This  dogged  and  stupid  piece  of  speech  was  pitiable  to 
hear  from  Nevil  Beauchamp. 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  said  she ;  and  her  glass-like  voice  rang  a 
tremor  in  its  mildness  that  swelled  through  him  on  the  plain 
submissive  note,  which  was  more  assent  than  question. 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  believe  it.  I  see  it.  At  least  I 
hope  so." 

*'  We  are  chiefly  led  by  hope,"  said  Renee. 

"At  least,  if  not!  "  Beauchamp  cried.  "  And  it 's  not  too 
late.  I  have  no  right  —  I  do  what  I  can.  I  am  at  your 
mercy.  Judge  me  later.  If  I  am  ever  to  know  what  happi- 
ness is,  it  will  be  with  you.  It 's  not  too  late  either  way. 
There  is  Roland  —  my  brother  as  much  as  if  you  were  my 
wife!" 

He  begged  her  to  let  him  have  Roland^s  exact  address. 

She  named  the  regiment,  the  corps  d^arm^e,  the  postal 
town,  and  the  department. 

"  Roland  will  come  at  a  signal,"  he  pursued ;  "  we  are 
not  bound  to  consult  others." 

Renee  formed  the  French  word  of  "  we  "  on  her  tongue. 

He  talked  of  Roland  and  Roland,  his  affection  for  him  as  a 
brother  and  as  a  friend,  and  Roland's  love  of  them  both. 


A  LAISIE  VICTORY  387 

*'It  is  true,"  said  Eenee. 

"We  owe  him  this;  he  represents  your  father." 

"  All  that  you  say  is  true,  my  friend." 

"  Thus,  you  have  come  on  a  visit  to  madame,  your  old 
friend  here  —  oh  !   your  hand.     What  have  I  done  ?  " 

K-enee  motioned  her  hand  as  if  it  were  free  to  be 
taken,  and  smiled  faintly  to  make  light  of  it,  but  did  not 
give  it. 

"  If  you  had  been  widowed !  "  he  broke  down  to  the  lover 
again. 

"  That  man  is  attached  to  the  remnant  of  his  life :  I  could 
not  wish  him  dispossessed  of  it,"  said  Renee. 

"  Parted !  who  parts  us  ?   It's  for  a  night.    To-morrow  ! " 

She  breathed  :    *'  To-morrow." 

To  his  hearing  it  craved  an  answer.  He  had  none.  To 
talk  like  a  lover,  or  like  a  man  of  honour,  was  to  lie.  False- 
hood hemmed  him  in  to  the  narrowest  ring  that  ever  statue 
stood  on,  if  he  meant  to  be  stone. 

"  That  woman  will  be  returning,"  he  muttered,  frowning 
at  the  vacant  door.  "  I  could  lay  out  my  whole  life  before 
your  eyes,  and  show  you  I  am  unchanged  in  ray  love  of 
you  since  the  night  when  Roland  and  I  walked  on  the 
Piazzetta  .  .  ." 

"  Do  not  remind  me ;  let  those  days  lie  black ! "  A 
sympathetic  vision  of  her  maiden's  tears  on  the  night  of 
wonderful  moonlight  when,  as  it  seemed  to  her  now,  San 
Giorgio  stood  like  a  dark  prophet  of  her  present  abasement 
and  chastisement,  sprang  tears  of  a  different  character, 
and  weak  as  she  was  with  her  soul's  fever  and  for  want  of 
food,  she  was  piteously  shaken.  She  said  with  some  calm- 
ness :  "  It  is  useless  to  look  back.  I  have  no  reproaches 
but  for  myself.  Explain  nothing  to  me.  Things  that  are 
not  comprehended  by  one  like  me  are  riddles  I  must  put 
aside.  I  know  where  I  am:  I  scarcely  know  more.  Here 
is  madame." 

The  door  had  not  opened,  and  it  did  not  open  immediately. 

Beauchamp  had  time  to  say,  "  Believe  in  me."  Even  that 
was  false  to  his  own  hearing,  and  in  a  struggle  with  the 
painful  impression  of  insincerity  which  was  denied  and 
scorned  by  his  impulse  to  fling  his  arms  round  her  and  have 
her  his  for  ever,  he  found  himself  deferentially  accepting 


388  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

her  brief  directions  concerning  her  boxes  at  the  hotel,  with 
Eosamund  Culling  to  witness. 

She  gave  him  her  hand. 

He  bowed  over  the  fingers.    "Until  to-morrow,  madame." 

"  Adieu  !  '^  said  Eenee. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

THE   TWO    PASSIONS 


The  foggy  February  night  refreshed  his  head,  and  the 
business  of  fetching  the  luggage  from  the  hotel  —  a  commis- 
sion that  necessitated  the  delivery  of  his  card  and  some  very 
commanding  language  —  kept  his  mind  in  order.  Subse- 
quently he  drove  to  his  cousin  Baskelett*s  Club,  where  he 
left  a  short  note  to  say  the  house  was  engaged  for  the  night 
and  perhaps  a  week  further.  Concise,  but  sufficient :  and 
he  stated  a  hope  to  his  cousin  that  he  would  not  be  incon- 
venienced.    This  was  courteous. 

He  had  taken  a  bed  at  Eenee^s  hotel,  after  wresting  her 
boxes  from  the  vanquished  hotel  proprietor,  and  lay  there, 
hearing  the  clear  sound  of  every  little  sentence  of  hers  dur- 
ing the  absence  of  Eosamund  :  her  ^' Adieu  "  and  the  strange 
"  Do  you  think  so  ?  ^'  and  "  /  know  where  I  am  ;  I  scarcely 
know  more^  Her  eyes  and  their  darker  lashes,  and  the  fit- 
ful little  sensitive  dimples  of  a  smile  without  joy,  came 
with  her  voice,  but  hardened  to  an  aspect  unlike  her.  Not 
a  word  could  he  recover  of  what  she  had  spoken  before 
Eosamund's  intervention.  He  fancied  she  must  have  re- 
lated details  of  her  journey.  Especially  there  must  have 
been  mention,  he  thought,  of  her  drive  to  the  station  from 
Tourdestelle ;  and  this  flashed  on  him  the  scene  of  his  ride 
to  the  chateau,  and  the  meeting  her  on  the  road,  and  the 
white  light  on  the  branching  river,  and  all  that  was  Eenee 
in  the  spirit  of  the  place  she  had  abandoned  for  him,  believ- 
ing  in'  him.  She  had  proved  that  she  believed  in  him. 
What  in  the  name  of  sanity  had  been  the  meaning  of  his 
language  ?  and  what  was  it  between  them  that  arrested  him 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  389 

and  caused  him  to  mumble  absurdly  of  "  doing  best,"  when 
in  fact  he  was  her  bondman,  rejoiced  to  be  so,  by  his 
pledged  word  ?  and  when  she,  for  some  reason  that  he  was 
sure  she  had  stated,  though  he  could  recollect  no  more  than 
the  formless  hideousness  of  it,  was  debarred  from  returning 
to  Tourdestelle  ? 

He  tossed  in  his  bed  as  over  a  furnace,  in  the  extremity 
of  perplexity  of  one  accustomed  to  think  himself  ever  de- 
monstrably in  the  right,  and  now  with  his  whole  nature  in 
insurrection  against  that  legitimate  claim.  It  led  him  to 
accuse  her  of  a  want  of  passionate  warmth,  in  her  not  hav- 
ing supplicated  and  upbraided  him  —  not  behaving  theatri- 
cally, in  fine,  as  the  ranting  pen  has  made  us  expect  of 
emergent  ladies  that  they  will  naturally  do.  Concerning 
himself,  he  thought  commendiugly,  a  tear  would  have  over- 
come him.  She  had  not  wept.  The  kaleidoscope  was 
shaken  in  his  fragmentary  mind,  and  she  appeared  thrice 
adorable  for  this  noble  composure,  he  brutish. 

Conscience  and  reason  had  resolved  to  a  dead  weight  in 
him,  like  an  inanimate  force,  governing  his  acts  despite  the 
man,  while  he  was  with  Renee.  Now  his  wishes  and  waver- 
ings conjured  up  a  semblance  of  a  conscience  and  much 
reason  to  assure  him  that  he  had  done  foolishly  as  well  as 
unkindly,  most  unkindly ;  that  he  was  even  the  ghastly 
spectacle  of  a  creature  attempting  to  be  more  than  he  can 
be.  Are  we  never  to  embrace  our  inclinations  ?  Are  the 
laws  regulating  an  old  dry  man  like  his  teacher  and  guide 
to  be  the  same  for  the  young  and  vigorous  ?  Is  a  good  gift 
to  be  refused  ?  And  this  was  his  first  love !  The  brilliant 
Renee,  many-hued  as  a  tropic  bird  !  his  lady  of  shining 
grace,  with  her  sole  fault  of  want  of  courage  devotedly 
amended  !  his  pupil,  he  might  say,  of  whom  he  had  foretold 
that  she  must  come  to  such  a  pass,  at  the  same  time  prefix- 
ing his  fidelity.  And  he  was  handing  her  over  knowingly 
to  one  kind  of  wretchedness  —  "  son  amour ^  mon  ami^^  shot 
through  him,  lighting  up  the  gulfs  of  a  mind  in  wreck ;  — 
and  one  kind  of  happiness  could  certainly  be  promised  her  ! 

All  these  and  innumerable  other  handsome  pleadings  of 
the  simulacra  of  the  powers  he  had  set  up  to  rule,  were 
crushed  at  daybreak  by  the  realities  in  a  sense  of  weight 
that  pushed   him   mechanically   on.      He   telegraphed   to 


390  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAKEER 

Eoland,  and  mentally  gave  chase  to  the  message  to  recall  it. 
—  The  slumberer  roused  in  darkness  by  the  relentless  in- 
sane-seeming bell  which  hales  him  to  duty,  melts  at  the 
charms  of  sleep,  'and  feels  that  logic  is  with  him  in  his  pref- 
erence of  his  pillow;  but  the  tireless  revolving  world  out- 
side, nature's  pitiless  antagonist,  has  hung  one  of  its 
balances  about  him,  and  his  actions  are  directed  by  the 
state  of  the  scales,  wherein  duty  weighs  deep  and  desirea- 
bility  swings  like  a  pendent  doll :  so  he  throws  on  his  har- 
ness, astounded,  till  his  blood  quickens  with  work,  at  the 
round  of  sacrifices  demanded  of  nature  :  which  is  indeed 
curious  considering  what  we  are  taught  here  and  there  as  to 
the  infallibility  of  our  august  mother.  Well,  the  world  of 
humanity  had  done  this  for  Beauchamp.  His  af9.icted  his- 
torian is  compelled  to  fling  his  net  among  prosaic  simili- 
tudes for  an  illustration  of  one  thus  degradedly  in  its  grip. 
If  he  had  been  off  with  his  love  like  the  rover !  —  why,  then 
the  Muse  would  have  loosened  her  lap  like  May  showering 
flower-buds,  and  we  might  have  knocked  great  nature  up 
from  her  sleep  to  embellish  his  desperate  proceedings  with 
hurricanes  to  be  danced  over,  to  say  nothing  of  imitative 
spheres  dashing  out  into  hurly-burly  after  his  example. 

Conscious  rectitude,  too,  after  the  pattern  of  the  well- 
behaved  iEneas  quitting  the  fair  bosom  of  Carthage  in 
obedience  to  the  Gods,  for  an  example  to  his  Eoman 
progeny,  might  have  stiffened  his  backbone  and  put  a 
crown  upon  his  brows.  It  happened  with  him  that  his 
original  training  rather  imposed  the  idea  that  he  was  a 
figure  to  be  derided.  The  approval  of  him  by  the  prudent 
was  a  disgust,  and  by  the  pious  tasteless.  He  had  not  any 
consolation  in  reverting  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's  heavy  puritanism. 
On  the  contrary,  such  a  general  proposition  as  that  of  the 
sage  of  Bevisham  could  not  for  a  moment  stand  against 
the  pathetic  special  case  of  Eenee :  and  as  far  as  Beau- 
champ^s  active  mind  went,  he  was  for  demanding  that  So- 
ciety should  take  a  new  position  in  morality,  considerably 
broader,  and  adapted  to  very  special  cases. 

Nevertheless  he  was  hardly  grieved  in  missing  Renee  at 
Rosamund's  breakfast-table.  Rosamund  informed  him  that 
Madame  de  Rouaillout's  door  was  locked.  Her  particular 
news  for  him  was  of  a  disgraceful  alarum  raised  by  Captain 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  891 

Baskelett  in  the  night,  to  obtain  admission ;  and  of  an  inter- 
view she  had  with  him  in  the  early  morning,  when  he  sub- 
jected her  to  great  insolence.  Beauchamp's  attention  was 
drawn  to  her  repetition  of  the  phrase  "mistress  of  the 
house."  However,  she  did  him  justice  in  regard  to  Renee, 
and  thoroughly  entered  into  the  fiction  of  Eenee's  visit  to 
her  as  her  guest :  he  passed  over  everything  else. 

To  stop  the  mouth  of  a  scandal-monger,  he  drove  full 
speed  to  Cecil's  Club,  where  he  heard  that  the  captain  had 
breakfasted  and  had  just  departed  for  Eomfrey  Castle.  He 
followed  to  the  station.  The  train  had  started.  So  mis- 
chief was  rolling  in  that  direction. 

Late  at  night  Rosamund  was  allowed  to  enter  the  chill 
unlighted  chamber,  where  the  unhappy  lady  had  been  lying 
for  hours  in  the  gloom  of  a  London  Winter^s  daylight  and 
gaslight. 

"Madame  de  Rouaillout  is  indisposed  with  headache," 
was  her  report  to  Beauchamp. 

The  conventional  phraseology  appeased  him,  though  he 
saw  his  grief  behind  it. 

Presently  he  asked  if  Renee  had  taken  food. 

"  No :  you  know  what  a  headache  is,"  Rosamund  replied. 

It  is  true  that  we  do  not  care  to  eat  when  we  are  in  pain. 

He  asked  if  she  looked  ill. 

"  She  will  not  have  lights  in  the  room,"  said  Rosamund. 

Piecemeal  he  gained  the  picture  of  Renee  in  an  image  of 
the  death  within  which  welcomed  a  death  without. 

Rosamund  was  impatient  with  him  fdr  speaking  of  med- 
ical aid.  These  men !  She  remarked  very  honestly :  "  Oh, 
no;  doctors  are  not  needed." 

"  Has  she  mentioned  me  ?  " 

**Not  once." 

"  Why  do  you  swing  your  watch-chain,  ma'am  ? "  cried 
Beauchamp,  bounding  off  his  chair. 

He  reproached  her  with  either  pretending  to  indifference 
or  feeling  it ;  and  then  insisted  on  his  privilege  of  going 
up-stairs  —  accompanied  by  her,  of  course  ;  and  then  it  was 
to  be  only  to  the  door  ;  then  an  answer  to  a  message  was  to 
satisfy  him. 

"  Any  message  would  trouble  her :  what  message  would 
you  send  ?  "  Rosamund  asked  him. 


392"  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

The  weighty  and  the  trivial  contended  ;  no  fitting  mes- 
sage could  be  thought  of. 

"  You  are  unused  to  real  suffering  —  that  is  for  women !  — 
and  want  to  be  doing  instead  of  enduring, ''  said  Rosamund. 

She  was  beginning  to  put  faith  in  the  innocence  of  these 
two  mortally  sick  lovers.  Beauchamp's  outcries  against 
himself  gave  her  the  shadows  of  their  story.  He  stood  in 
tears  —  a  thing  to  see  to  believe  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  ;  and 
plainly  he  did  not  know  it,  or  else  he  would  have  taken  her 
advice  to  him  to  leave  the  house  at  an  hour  that  was  long 
past  midnight.  Her  method  for  inducing  hijn  to  go  was 
based  on  her  intimate  knowledge  of  him :  she  made  as  if  to 
soothe  and  kiss  him  compassionately. 

In  the  morning  there  was  a  flying  word  from  Roland,  on 
his  way  to  England.  Rosamund  tempered  her  report  of 
Renee  by  saying  of  her,  that  she  was  very  quiet.  He 
turned  to  the  window. 

"  Look,  what  a  climate  ours  is ! "  Beauchamp  abused  the 
persistent  fog.  "Dull,  cold,  no  sky,  a  horrible  air  to 
breathe  !  This  is  what  she  has  come  to  !  Has  she  spoken 
of  me  yet?" 

"No." 

"Is  she  dead  silent?" 

"  She  answers,  if  I  speak  to  her." 

"I  believe,  ma'am,"  said  Beauchamp,  "that  we  are  the 
coldest-hearted  people  in  Europe." 

Rosamund  did  not  defend  us,  or  the  fog.  Consequently 
nothing  was  left  for  him  to  abuse  but  himself.  In  that 
she  tried  to  moderate  him,  and  drew  forth  a  torrent  of 
self -vituperation,  after  which  he  sank  into  the  speechless 
misery  he  had  been  evading;  until  sophistical  fancy,  an- 
other evolution  of  his  nature,  persuaded  him  that  Roland, 
seeing  Renee,  would  for  love's  sake  be  friendly  to  them. 

"I  should  have  told  you,  Nevil,  by  the  way,  that  the 
earl  is  dead,"  said  Rosamund. 

"Her  brother  will  be  here  to-day;  he  can't  be  later  than 
the  evening,"  said  Beauchamp.  "Get  her  to  eat,  ma'am; 
you  must.  Command  her  to  eat.  This  terrible  star- 
vation ! " 

"You  ate  nothing  yourself,  Nevil,  all  day  yesterday." 

He  surveyed  the  table.     "  You  have  your  cook  in  town, 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  393 

I  see.  Here  's  a  breakfast  to  feed  twenty  hungry  families 
in  Spitalfields.  Where  does  the  mass  of  meat  go  ?  One 
excess  feeds  another.  You  're  overdone  with  servants. 
Gluttony,  laziness,  and  pilfering  come  of  your  host  of  un- 
manageable footmen  and  maids;  you  stuff  them,  and  won- 
der they  're  idle  and  immoral.  If  —  I  suppose  I  must  call 
him  the  earl  now,  or  Colonel  Halkett,  or  any  one  of  the 
army  of  rich  men,  hear  of  an  increase  of  the  income-tax, 
or  some  poor  wretch  hints  at  a  sliding  scale  of  taxation, 
they  yell  as  if. they  were  thumb-screwed:  but  five  shillings 
in  the  pound  goes  to  the  kitchen  as  a  matter  of  course  —  to 
puff  those  pompous  idiots  !  and  the  parsons,  who  should  be 
preaching  against  this  sheer  waste  of  food  and  perversion 
of  the  strength  of  the  nation,  as  a  public  sin,  are  maun- 
dering about  schism.  There  's  another  idle  army  !  Then 
we  have  artists,  authors,  lawyers,  doctors  —  the  honourable 
professions !  all  hanging  upon  wealth,  all  apeing  the  rich, 
and  all  bearing  upon  labour !  it 's  incubus  on  incubus.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  rider 's  too  heavy  for  the  horse  in 
England." 

He  began  to  nibble  at  bread. 

Kosamund  pushed  over  to  him  a  plate  of  the  celebrated 
Steynham  pie,  of  her  own  invention,  such  as  no  house  in 
the  county  of  Sussex  could  produce  or  imitate. 

"What  would  you  have  the  parsons  do  ?  "  she  said. 

"Take  the  rich  by  the  throat  and  show  them  in  the 
kitchen-mirror  that  they  're  swine  running  down  to  the  sea 
with  a  devil  in  them." 

She  had  set  him  off  again,  but  she  had  enticed  him  to 
eating.  "Pooh!  it  has  all  been  said  before.  Stones  are 
easier  to  move  than  your  English.  May  I  be  forgiven  for 
saying  it !  an  invasion  is  what  they  want  to  bring  them  to 
their  senses.  I  'm  sick  of  the  work.  Why  should  I  be 
denied  —  am  I  to  kill  the  woman  I  love  that  I  may  go  on 
hammering  at  them  ?  Their  idea  of  liberty  is,  an  evasion 
of  public  duty.  Dr.  Shrapnel 's  right  —  it 's  a  money- 
logged  Island !  Men  like  the  Earl  of  Romfrey,  who  have 
never  done  work  in  their  days  except  to  kill  bears  and 
birds,  I  say  they  're  stifled  by  wealth :  and  he  at  least 
would  have  made  an  Admiral  of  mark,  or  a  General :  not 
of  much  value,  but  useful  in  case  of  need.     But  he,  like  a 


394  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

pretty  woman,  was  under  no  obligation  to  contribute  more 
than  an  ornamental  person  to  the  common  good.  As  to 
that,  we  count  him  by  tens  of  thousands  now,  and  his  foot- 
men and  maids  by  hundreds  of  thousands.  The  rich  love 
the  nation  through  their  possessions;  otherwise  they  have 
no  country.  If  they  loved  the  country  they  would  care 
for  the  people.  Their  hearts  are  eaten  up  by  property. 
I  am  bidden  to  hold  my  tongue  because  I  have  no  knowl- 
edge. When  men  who  have  this  '  knowledge  '  will  go  down 
to  the  people,  speak  to  them,  consult  and  argue  with  them, 
and  come  into  suitable  relations  with  them  —  I  don't  say  of 
lords  and  retainers,  but  of  knowers  and  doers,  leaders  and 
followers  —  out  of  consideration  for  public  safety,  if  not 
for  the  common  good,  I  shall  hang  back  gladly;  though  I 
won't  hear  misstatements.  My  fault  is,  that  I  am  too 
moderate.  I  should  respect  myself  more  if  I  deserved 
their  hatred.  This  flood  of  luxury,  which  is,  as  Dr. 
Shrapnel  says,  the  body's  drunkenness  and  the  soul's  death, 
cries  for  execration.  I  'm  too  moderate.  But  I  shall  quit 
the  country:  I  've  no  place  here." 

Eosamund  ahemed.  "France,  Nevil?  I  should  hardly 
think  that  France  would  please  you,  in  the  present  state 
of  things  over  there." 

Half  cynically,  with  great  satisfaction,  she  had  watched 
him  fretting  at  the  savoury  morsels  of  her  pie  with  a  fork 
like  a  sparrow-beak  during  the  monologue  that  would  have 
been  so  dreary  to  her  but  for  her  appreciation  of  the 
wholesome  effect  of  the  letting  off  of  steam,  and  her  admi- 
ration of  the  fire  of  his  eyes.  After  finishing  his  plate  he 
had  less  the  look  of  a  ship  driving  on  to  reefs  —  one  of  his 
images  of  the  country.  He  called  for  claret  and  water, 
sighing  as  he  munched  bread  in  vast  portions,  evidently 
conceiving  that  to  eat  unbuttered  bread  was  to  abstain  from 
luxury.  He  praised  passingly  the  quality  of  the  bread. 
It  came  from  Steynham,  and  so  did  the  milk  and  cream, 
the  butter,  chicken,  and  eggs.  He  was  good  enough  not  to 
object  to  the  expenditure  upon  the  transmission  of  the 
accustomed  dainties.  Altogether  the  gradual  act  of  nib- 
bling had  conduced  to  his  eating  remarkably  well  — royally. 
Rosamund's  more  than  half -cynical  ideas  of  men,  and  her 
custom  of  wringing  unanimous  verdicts   from   a  jury  of 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  395 

temporary  impressions,  inclined  her  to  imagine  him  a  lover 
that  had  not  to  be  so  very  much  condoled  with,  and  a 
politician  less  alarming  in  practice  than  in  theory :  — 
somewhat  a  gentleman  of  domestic  tirades  on  politics :  as 
it  is  observed  of  your  generous  young  Radical  of  birth  and 
fortune,  that  he  will  become  on  the  old  high-road  to  a 
round  Conservatism. 

He  pitched  one  of  the  morning  papers  to  the  floor  in  dis- 
orderly sheets,  muttering,  "  So  they  're  at  me  !  " 

"Is  Dr.    Shrapnel  better?"  she  asked.     "I  hold  to  a 
good  appetite  as  a  sign  of  a  man's  recovery." 

Beauchamp   was   confronting   the   fog  at  the   window. 
He  swung  round :  "  Dr.  Shrapnel  is  better.     He  has  a  par- 
ticularly clever  young  female  cook." 
"Ah!  then  ..." 

"Yes,  then,  naturally!     He  would  naturally  hasten  to 
recover  to  partake  of  the  viands,  ma'am." 

Rosamund  murmured  of  her  gladness  that  he  should  be 
able  to  enjoy  them. 

"Oddly  enough,  he  is  not  an  eater  of  meat,"  said  Beau- 
champ. 

"  A  vegetarian ! " 

"I  beg  you  not  to  mention  the  fact  to  my  lord.  You 
see,  you  yourself  can  scarcely  pardon  it.  He  does  not  ex- 
clude flesh  from  his  table.  Blackburn  Tuckham  dined 
there  once.  '  You  are  a  thorough  revolutionist.  Dr. 
Shrapnel,'  he  observed.  The  doctor  does  not  exclude 
wine,  but  he  does  not  drink  it.  Poor  Tuckham  went 
away  entirely  opposed  to  a  Radical  he  could  not  even  meet 
as  a  boonfellow.  I  begged  him  not  to  mention  the  cir- 
cumstances, as  I  have  begged  you.  He  pledged  me  his 
word  to  that  effect  solemnly ;  he  correctly  felt  that  if  the 
truth  were  known,  there  would  be  further  cause  for  the 
reprobation  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  host." 
"And  that  poor  girl,  Nevil ?" 

"  Miss  Denham  ?  She  contracted  the  habit  of  eating 
meat  at  school,  and  drinking  wine  in  Paris  >  and  continues 
it,  occasionally.  Now  run  up-stairs.  Insist  on  food. 
Inform  Madame  de  Rouaillout  that  her  brother  M.  le 
comte  de  Croisnel  will  soon  be  here,  and  should  not  find 
her  ill.     Talk  to  her  as  you  women  can  talk.     Keep  the 


S96  BEATTCHAMP'S  CAREER 

blinds  down  in  her  room;  light  a  dozen  wax-candles.  Tell 
her  I  have  no  thought  but  of  her.  It 's  a  lie :  of  no  woman 
but  of  her :  that  you  may  say.  But  that  you  can't  say. 
You  can  say  I  am  devoted  —  ha,  what  stuff!  I  've  only  to 
open  my  mouth  !  —  say  nothing  of  me :  let  her  think  the 
worst  —  unless  it  comes  to  a  question  of  her  life :  then  be 
a  merciful  good  woman  ..."  He  squeezed  her  fingers, 
communicating  his  muscular  tremble  to  her  sensitive 
woman's  frame,  and  electrically  convincing  her  that  he 
was  a  lover. 

She  went  up-stairs.  In  ten  minutes  she  descended,  and 
found  him  pacing  up  and  down  the  hall.  "Madame  de 
Kouaillout  is  much  the  same,"  she  said.  He  nodded, 
looked  up  the  stairs,  and  about  for  his  hat  and  gloves, 
drew  on  the  gloves,  fixed  the  buttons,  blinked  at  his  watch, 
and  settled  his  hat  as  he  was  accustomed  to  wear  it,  all 
very  methodically,  and  talking  rapidly,  but  except  for 
certain  precise  directions,  which  were  not  needed  by  so 
careful  a  housekeeper  and  nurse  as  Eosamund  was  known 
to  be,  she  could  not  catch  a  word  of  meaning.  He  had 
some  appointment,  it  seemed;  perhaps  he  was  off  for  a 
doctor  —  a  fresh  instance  of  his  masculine  incapacity  to 
understand  patient  endurance.  After  opening  the  house- 
door,  and  returning  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  listening  and 
sighing,  he  disappeared. 

It  struck  her  that  he  was  trying  to  be  two  men  at  once. 

The  litter  of  newspaper  sheets  in  the  morning-room 
brought  his  exclamation  to  her  mind:  "They  're  at  me  !  " 
Her  eyes  ran  down  the  columns,  and  were  seized  by  the 
print  of  his  name  in  large  type.  A  leading  article  was 
devoted  to  Commander  Beauchamp's  recent  speech  deliv- 
ered in  the  great  manufacturing  town  of  Gunningham,  at  a 
meeting  under  the  presidency  of  the  mayor,  and  his  replies 
to  particular  questions  addressed  to  him;  one  being,  what 
right  did  he  conceive  himself  to  have  to  wear  the  Sover- 
eign's uniform  in  professing  Kepublican  opinions  ?  Rosa- 
mund winced  for  her  darling  during  her  first  perusal  of  the 
article.  It  was  of  the  sarcastically  caressing  kind,  mas- 
terly in  ease  of  style,  as  the  flourish  of  the  executioner  well 
may  be  with  poor  Bare-back  hung  up  to  a  leisurely  admin- 
istration of  the  scourge.     An  allusion  to  "  Jack  on  shore  " 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  397 

almost  persuaded  her  that  his  uncle  Everard  had  inspired 
the  writer  of  the  article.  Beauchamp's  reply  to  the  ques- 
tion of  his  loyalty  was  not  quoted :  he  was ,  however,  com- 
plimented on  his  frankness.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
assured  that  his  error  lay  in  a  too  great  proneness  to  make 
distinctions,  and  that  there  was  no  distinction  between 
sovereign  and  country  in  a  loyal  and  contented  land,  which 
could  thank  him  for  gallant  services  in  war,  while  taking 
him  for  the  solitary  example  to  be  cited  at  the  present 
period  of  the  evils  of  a  comparatively  long  peace. 

"Doubtless  the  tedium  of  such  a  state  to  a  man  of  the 
temperament  of  the  gallant  commander,"  &c.,  — the  ter- 
mination of  the  article  was  indulgent.  Rosamund  recurred 
to  the  final  .paragraph  for  comfort,  and  though  she  loved 
Beauchamp,  the  test  of  her  representative  feminine  senti- 
ment regarding  his  political  career,  when  personal  feeling 
on  his  behalf  had  subsided,  was,  that  the  writer  of  the 
article  must  have  received  an  intimation  to  deal  both 
smartly  and  f orbearingly  with  the  offender :  and  from  whom 
but  her  lord?  Her  notions  of  the  conduct  of  the  Press 
were  primitive.  In  a  summary  of  the  article  Beauchamp 
was  treated  as  naughty  boy,  formerly  brave  boy,  and  likely 
by-and-by  to  be  good  boy.  Her  secret  heart  would  have 
spoken  similarly,  with  more  emphasis  on  the  flattering 
terms. 

A  telegram  arrived  from  her  lord.  She  was  bidden  to 
have  the  house  clear  for  him  by  noon  of  the  next  day. 

How  could  that  be  done  ? 

But  to  write  blankly  to  inform  the  Earl  of  Romf rey  that 
he  was  excluded  from  his  own  house  was  another  impossi- 
bility. 

"  Hateful  man !  "  she  apostrophized  Captain  Baskelett,  and 
sat  down,  supporting  her  chin  in  a  prolonged  meditation. 

The  card  of  a  French  lady,  bearing  the  name  of  Madame 
d'Auffray,  was  handed  to  her. 

Beauchamp  had  gone  off  to  his  friend  Lydiard,  to  fortify 
himself  in  his  resolve  to  reply  to  that  newspaper  article  by 
eliciting  counsel  to  the  contrary.  Phrase  by  phrase  he 
fought  through  the  first  half  of  his  composition  of  the 
reply  against  Lydiard,  yielding  to  him  on  a  point  or  two  of 


398 

literary  judgement,  only  the  more  vehemently  to  maintain 
his  ideas  of  discretion,  which  were,  that  he  would  not  take 
shelter  behind  a  single  subterfuge;  that  he  would  try  this 
question  nakedly,  though  he  should  stand  alone;  that  he 
would  stake  his  position  on  it,  and  establish  his  right  to 
speak  his  opinions :  and  as  for  unseasonable  times,  he  pro- 
tested it  was  the  cry  of  a  gorged  middle-class,  frightened 
of  further  action,  and  making  snug  with  compromise. 
Would  it  be  a  seasonable  time  when  there  was  uproar? 
Then  it  would  be  a  time  to  be  silent  on  such  themes :  they 
could  be  discussed  calmly  now,  and  without  danger;  and 
whethei*  he  was  hunted  or  not,  he  cared  nothing.  He  de- 
clined to  consider  the  peculiar  nature  of  Englishmen :  they 
must  hear  truth  or  perish. 

Knowing  the  difficulty  once  afflicting  Beauchamp  in  the 
art  of  speaking  on  politics  tersely,  Lydiard  was  rather 
astonished  at  his  well-delivered  cannonade ;  and  he  fancied 
that  his  modesty  had  been  displaced  by  the  new  acquire- 
ment; not  knowing  the  nervous  fever  of  his  friend's  condi- 
tion, for  which  the  rattle  of  speech  was  balm,  and  conten- 
tion a  native  element,  and  the  assumption  of  truth  a  neces- 
sity. Beauchamp  hugged  his  politics  like  some  who  show 
their  love  of  the  pleasures  of  life  by  taking  to  them  angrily. 
It  was  all  he  had :  he  had  given  up  all  for  it.  He  forced 
Lydiard  to  lay  down  his  pen  and  walk  back  to  the  square 
with  him,  and  went  on  arguing,  interjecting,  sneering, 
thumping  the  old  country,  raising  and  oversetting  her, 
treating  her  alternately  like  a  disrespected  grandmother 
and  like  a  woman  anciently  beloved ;  as  a  dead  lump,  and 
as  a  garden  of  seeds;  reviewing  prominent  political  men, 
laughing  at  the  dwarf-giants ;  finally  casting  anchor  on  a 
Mechanics'  Institute  that  he  had  recently  heard  of,  where 
workingmen  met  weekly  for  the  purpose  of  reading  the 
British  poets.  /        ' 

"That's  the  best  thing  I've  heard  of  late,"  he  said, 
shaking  Lydiard' s  hand  on  the  door-steps. 

"  Ah  !  you  're  Commander  Beauchamp ;  I  think  I  know 
you.  I  've  seen  you  on  a  platform,"  cried  a  fresh -faced 
man  in  decent  clothes,  halting  on  his  way  along  the  pave- 
ment ;  "  and  if  you  were  in  your  uniform,  you  damned  Re- 
'publican  dog !  I  'd  strip  you  with  my  own  hands,  for  the 


THE  TWO   PASSIONS  399 

disloyal  scoundrel  you  are,  with  your  pimping  Eepublican- 
ism  and  capsizing  everything  in  a  country  like  Old  Eng- 
land. It 's  the  cat-o' -nine-tails  you  want,  and  the  bosen  to 
lay  on;  and  I  'd  do  it  myself.  And  mind  me,  when  next  I 
catch  sight  of  you  in  blue  and  gold  lace,  I  '11  compel  you 
to  show  cause  why  you  wear  it,  and  prove  your  case,  or 
else  I  '11  make  a  Cupid  of  you,  and  no  joke  about  it.  I 
don't  pay  money  for  a  nincompoop  to  outrage  my  feelings 
01  respect  and  loyalty,  when  he  's  in  my  pay,  d'  ye  hear  ? 
You  're  in  my  pay :  and  you  do  your  duty,  or  I  '11  kick  ye 
out  of  it.  It 's  no  empty  threat.  You  look  out  for  your 
next  public  speech,  if  it 's  anywhere  within  forty  mile  of 
London.     Get  along." 

With  a  scowl,  and  a  very  ugly  "  yah  !  "  worthy  of  canni- 
bal jaws,  the  man  passed  off. 

Beauchamp  kept  eye  on  him.  "  What  class  does  a  fellow 
like  that  come  of  ?  " 

"He's  a  harmless  enthusiast,"  said  Lydiard.  "He  has 
been  reading  the  article,  and  has  got  excited  over  it." 

"I  wish  I  had  the  fellow's  address."  Beauchamp  looked 
wistfully  at  Lydiard,  but  he  did  not  stimulate  the  gener- 
ous offer  to  obtain  it  for  him.  Perhaps  it  was  as  well  to 
forget  the  fellow. 

"You  see  the  effect  of  those  articles,"  he  said. 

"  You  see  what  I  mean  by  unseasonable  times ,"  Lydiard 
retorted. 

"He  didn't  talk  like  a  tradesman,"  Beauchamp  mused. 

"  He  may  be  one,  for  all  that.  It 's  better  to  class  him 
as  an  enthusiast." 

"  An  enthusiast !  "  Beauchamp  stamped :  "  for  what  ?  " 

"  For  the  existing  order  of  things ;  for  his  beef  and  ale ; 
for  the  titles  he  is  accustomed  to  read  in  the  papers.  You 
don't  study  your  countrymen." 

"I  'd  study  that  fellow,  if  I  had  the  chance." 

"  You  would  probably  find  him  one  of  the  emptiest,  with 
a  rather  worse  temper  than  most  of  them." 

Beauchamp  shook  Lydiard's  hand,  saying,  "The 
widow  ?  " 

"  There  's  no  woman  like  her  ! " 

"  Well,  now  you  're  free  —  why  not  ?  I  think  I  put  on© 
man  out  of  the  field." 


400  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

"  Too  early  !     Besides  —  " 

"Eepeat  that,  and  you  may  have  to  say  too  late." 

"  When  shall  you  go  down  to  Bevisham  ?  " 

"When?  I  can't  tell:  when  I've  gone  through  fire. 
There  never  was  a  home  for  me  like  the  cottage,  and  the 
old  man,  and  the  dear  good  girl  —  the  best  of  girls  !  if  you 
had  n't  a  little  spoilt  her  with  your  philosophy  of  the  two 
sides  of  a  case." 

"I  've  not  given  her  the  brains." 

"  She  's  always  doubtful  of  doing,  doubtful  of  action : 
she  has  no  will.  So  she  is  fatalistic,  and  an  argument 
between  us  ends  in  her  submitting,  as  if  she  must  submit 
to  me,  because  I  'm  overbearing,  instead  of  accepting  the 
fact." 

"She  feels  your  influence." 

"  She 's  against  the  publication  of  The  Dawn  —  for  the 
present.  It 's  an  '  unseasonable  time.'  I  argue  with  her: 
1  don't  get  hold  of  her  mind  a  bit;  but  at  last  she  says, 
*  very  well.'     She  has  your  head." 

And  you  have  her  heart,  Lydiard  could  have  rejoined. 

They  said  good-bye,  neither  of  them  aware  of  the  other's 
task  of  endurance. 

As  they  were  parting,  Beauchamp  perceived  his  old  com- 
rade Jack  Wilmore  walking  past. 

"Jack!"  he  called. 

Wilmore  glanced  round.  "How  do  you  do,  Beau- 
champ  ?  " 

"Where  are  you  off  to,  Jack  ?" 

"Down  to  the  Admiralty.  I  'm  rather  in  a  hurry;  I 
have  an  appointment." 

"Can't  you  stop  just  a  minute  ?  " 

"I 'm  afraid  I  can't.     Good  morning." 

It  was  incredible;  but  this  old  friend,  the  simplest  heart 
alive,  retreated  without  a  touch  of  his  hand,  and  with  a 
sorely  wounded  air. 

"  That  newspaper  article  appears  to  have  been  generally 
read,"  Beauchamp  said  to  Lydiard,  who  answered,  — 

"The  article  did  not  put  the  idea  of  you  into  men's 
minds,  but  gave  tongue  to  it:  you  may  take  it  for  an  in- 
stance of  the  sagacity  of  the  Press." 

"You  wouldn't  take  that  man  and  me  to  have  been 


THE  TWO  PASSIONS  401 

messmates  for  years !  Old  Jack  Wilmore !  Don't  go, 
Lydiard." 

Lydiard  declared  that  he  was  bound  to  go  :  he  was 
engaged  to  read  Italian  for  an  hour  with  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux. 

"Then  go,  by  all  means,"  Beauchamp  dismissed  him. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  held  a  review  of  his  friends  and 
enemies  on  the  door-step,  and  found  them  of  one  colour. 
If  it  was  an  accident  befalling  him  in  a  London  square 
during  a  space  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  what  of  the  senti- 
ments of  universal  England  ?  Lady  Barbara's  elopement 
with  Lord  Alfred  last  year  did  not  rouse  much  execration ; 
hardly  worse  than  gossip  and  compassion.  Beauchamp 
drank  a  great  deal  of  bitterness  from  his  reflections.  They 
who  provoke  huge  battles,  and  gain  but  lame  victories 
over  themselves,  insensibly  harden  to  the  habit  of  distill- 
ing sour  thoughts  from  their  mischances  and  from  most 
occurrences.     So  does  the  world  they  combat  win  on  them. 

*'For,"  says  Dr.  Shrapnel,  "the  world  and  nature,  which 
are  opposed  in  relation  to  our  vital  interests,  each  agrees  to 
demand  of  us  a  perfect  victory,  on  pain  otherwise  of  prov- 
ing it  a  stage  performance;  and  the  victory  over  the  world, 
as  over  nature,  is  over  self :  and  this  victory  lies  in  yield- 
ing perpetual  service  to  the  world,  and  none  to  nature :  for 
the  world  has  to  be  wrought  out,  nature  to  be  subdued." 

The  interior  of  the  house  was  like  a  change  of  elements 
to  Beauchamp.  He  had  never  before  said  to  himself,  "  I 
have  done  my  best,  and  I  am  beaten ! "  Outside  of  it,  his 
native  pugnacity  had  been  stimulated;  but  here,  within  the 
walls  where  Renee  lay  silently  breathing,  barely  breathing, 
it  might  be  dying,  he  was  overcome,  and  left  it  to  circum- 
stance to  carry  him  to  a  conclusion.  He  went  up-stairs  to 
the  drawing-room,  where  he  beheld  Madame  d'Auffray  in 
cconversation  with  Rosamund. 

"I  was  assured  by  Madame  la  comtesse  that  I  should  see 
you  to-day,"  the  French  lady  said  as  she  swam  to  meet 
him;  "it  is  a  real  pleasure:"  and  pressing  his  hand  she 
continued,  "  but  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed  of  seeing 
my  sister.     She  would  rashly  try  your  climate  at  its  worst 

26 


402  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

period.  Believe  me,  I  do  not  join  in  decrying  it,  except 
on  her  account :  I  could  have  forewarned  her  of  an  English 
Winter  and  early  Spring.  You  know  her  impetuosity; 
suddenly  she  decided  on  accepting  the  invitation  of  Madame 
la  comtesse ;  and  though  I  have  no  fears  of  her  health,  she 
is  at  present  a  victim  of  the  inclement  weather." 

"  You  have  seen  her,  madame  ?  "  said  Beauchamp.  So 
well  had  the  clever  lady  played  the  dupe  that  he  forgot 
there  was  a  part  for  him  to  play.  Even  the  acquiescence 
of  Kosamund  in  the  title  of  countess  bewildered  him. 

"  Madame  d' Auffray  has  been  sitting  for  an  hour  with 
Madame  de  Eouaillout,"  said  Eosamund. 

He  spoke  of  Roland's  coming. 

"Ah?"  said  Madame  D' Auffray,  and  turned  to  Rosa- 
mund :  "you  have  determined  to  surprise  us :  then  you  will 
have  a  gathering  of  the  whole  family  in  your  hospitable 
house,  Madame  la  comtesse." 

"If  M.  le  marquis  will  do  it  that  honour,  madame." 

"My  brother  is  in  London,"  Madame  d' Auffray  said  to 
Beauchamp. 

The  shattering  blow  was  merited  by  one  who  could  not 
rejoice  that  he  had  acted  rightly. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE   EARL    OF    ROMFKEY    AND    THE   COUNTESS 

An  extraordinary  telegraphic  message,  followed  by  a 
still  more  extraordinary  letter  the  next  morning,  from 
Rosamund  Culling,  all  but  interdicted  the  immediate  occu- 
pation of  his  house  in  town  to  Everard,  now  Earl  of 
Romfrey.  She  begged  him  briefly  not  to  come  until  after 
the  funeral,  and  proposed  to  give  him  good  reasons  for 
her  request  at  their  meeting.  "  I  repeat,  I  pledge  myself 
to  satisfy  you  on  this  point,"  she  wrote.  Her  tone  was 
that  of  one  of  your  heroic  women  of  history  refusing  to 
surrender  a  fortress. 

Everard 's  wrath  was  ever  of  a  complexion  that  could 
suffer  postponements  without  his  having  to  fear  an  abate- 


THE   EARL  AND  THE  COUNTESS  403 

ment  of  it.  He  had  no  business  to  transact  in  London,  and 
he  had  much  at  the  Castle,  so  he  yielded  himself  up  to  his 
new  sensations,  which  are  not  commonly  the  portion  of 
gentlemen  of  his  years.  He  anticipated  that  Nevil  would 
at  least  come  down  to  the  funeral ,  but  there  was  no  appear- 
ance of  him,  nor  a  word  to  excuse  his  absence.  Cecil  was 
his  only  supporter.  They  walked  together  between  the 
double  ranks  of  bare  polls  of  the  tenantry  and  peasantry, 
resembling  in  a  fashion  old  Froissart  engravings  the  earl 
used  to  dote  on  in  his  boyhood,  representing  bodies  of 
manacled  citizens,  whose  humbled  heads  looked  like  nuts 
to  be  cracked,  outside  the  gates  of  captured  French  towns, 
awaiting  the  disposition  of  their  conqueror,  with  his  banner 
above  him  and  prancing  knights  around.  That  was  a 
glory  of  the  past.  He  had  no  successor.  The  thought 
was  chilling;  the  solitariness  of  childlessness  to  an  aged 
man,  chief  of  a  most  ancient  and  martial  House,  and 
proud  of  his  blood,  gave  him  the  statue's  outlook  on  a 
desert,  and  made  him  feel  that  he  was  no  more  than  a  whirl 
of  the  dust,  settling  to  the  dust. 

He  listened  to  the  parson  curiously  and  consentingly. 
We  are  ashes.  Ten  centuries  had  come  to  an  end  in  him 
to  prove  the  formula  correct.  The  chronicle  of  the  House 
would  state  that  the  last  Earl  of  Romfrey  left  no  heir. 

Cecil  was  a  fine  figure  walking  beside  him.  Measured 
by  feet,  he  might  be  a  worthy  holder  of  great  lands.  But 
so  heartily  did  the  earl  despise  this  nephew  that  he  never 
thought  of  trying  strength  with  the  fellow,  and  hardly 
cared  to  know  what  his  value  was,  beyond  his  immediate 
uses  as  an  instrument  to  strike  with.  Beauchamp  of 
Romfrey  had  been  his  dream,  not  Baskelett:  and  it  in- 
creased his  disgust  of  Beauchamp  that  Baskelett  should 
step  forward  as  the  man.  No  doubt  Cecil  would  hunt  the 
county  famously :  he  would  preserve  game  with  the  sleep- 
less eye  of  a  General  of  the  Jesuits.  These  things  were 
to  be  considered. 

Two  days  after  the  funeral  Lord  Romfrey  proceeded  to 
London.  He  was  met  at  the  station  by  Rosamund,  and 
informed  that  his  house  was  not  yet  vacated  by  the  French 
family. 

"And  where  have  you  arranged  for  me  to  go,  ma'am  ?'' 
he  asked  her  complacently. 


404  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

She  named  an  hotel  where  she  had  taken  rooms  for  him. 

He  nodded,  and  was  driven  to  the  hotel,  saying  little  on 
the  road. 

As  she  expected,  he  was  heavily  armed  against  her  and 
Nevil. 

"You  're  the  slave  of  the  fellow,  ma'am.  You  are  so 
infatuated  that  you  second  his  amours,  in  my  house.  I 
must  wait  for  a  clearance,  it  seems." 

He  cast  a  comical  glance  of  disapprobation  on  the  fit- 
tings of  the  hotel  apartment,  abhorring  gilt. 

"They  leave  us  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  said  Rosa- 
mund, out  of  breath  with  nervousness  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  fray,  and  skipping  over  the  opening  ground  of 
a  bold  statement  of  facts.  "Madame  de  Rouaillout  has 
been  unwell.  She  is  not  yet  recovered;  she  has  just  risen. 
Her  sister-in-law  has  nursed  her.  Her  husband  seems 
much  broken  in  health;  he  is  perfect  on  the  points  of 
courtesy." 

"That  is  lucky,  ma'am." 

"Her  brother,  Nevil's  comrade  in  the  war,  was  there 

"Who  came  first?" 

"My   lord,  you  have  only  heard  Captain  Baskelett's 

version  of  the  story.     She  has  been  my  guest  since  the  first 

day  of  her  landing  in  England.     There  cannot  possibly  be 

an  imputation  on  her." 

"Ma'am,  if  her  husband  manages  to  be  satisfied,  what 

on  earth  have  I  to  do  with  it?" 
"I  am  thinking  of  ISTevil,  my  lord." 
"You  're  never  thinking  of  any  one  else,  ma'am." 
"He  sleeps  here,  at  this  hotel.     He  left  the  house  to 

Madame  de  Eouaillout.     I  bear  witness  to  that." 

"  You  two  seem  to  have  made  your  preparations  to  stand 

a  criminal  trial." 

"It  is  pure  truth,  my  lord." 

"Do  you  take  me  to  be   anxious  about  the  fellow's 

virtue?" 

"She  is  a  lady  who  would  please  you." 

"A  scandal  in  my  house  does  not  please  me." 

"  The  only  approach  to  a  scandal  was  made  by  Captain 

Baskelett." 


THE  EAEL  AND  THE  COUNTESS        405 

"A  poor  devil  locked  out  of  his  bed  on  a  Winter's  night 
hullabaloos  with  pretty  good  reason.  I  suppose  he  felt 
the  contrast." 

"  My  lord,  this  lady  did  me  the  honour  to  come  to  me  on 
a  visit.  I  have  not  previously  presumed  to  entertain  a 
friend.  She  probably  formed  no  estimate  of  ray  exact 
position." 

The  earl  with  a  gesture  implied  Kosamund's  privilege 
to  act  the  hostess  to  friends. 

"  You  invited  her  ?  "  he  said. 

"That  is,  I  had  told  her  I  hoped  she  would  come  to 
England." 

"She  expected  you  to  be  at  the  house  in  town  on  her 
arrival  ?  " 

"It  was  her  impulse  to  come." 

"  She  came  alone  ?  " 

"  She  may  have  desired  to  be  away  from  her  own  people 
for  a  time:  there  may  have  been  domestic  differences. 
These  cases  are  delicate." 

"  This  case  appears  to  have  been  so  delicate  that  you  had 
to  lock  out  a  fourth  party." 

"It  is  iadelicate  and  base  of  Captain  Baskelett  to  com- 
plain and  to  hint.  Nevil  had  to  submit  to  the  same;  and 
Captain  Baskelett  took  his  revenge  on  the  house-door  and 
the  bells.  The  house  was  visited  by  the  police  next 
morning." 

"  Do  you  suspect  him  to  have  known  you  were  inside  the 
house  that  night  ?  " 

She  could  not  say  so :  but  hatred  of  Cecil  urged  her  past 
the  bounds  of  habitual  reticence  to  put  it  to  her  lord 
whether  he,  imagining  the  worst,  would  have  behaved  like 
Cecil. 

To  this  he  did  not  reply,  but  remarked,  "  I  am  sorry  he 
annoyed  you,  ma'am." 

"  It  is  not  the  annoyance  to  me ;  it  is  the  shocking,  the 
unmanly  insolence  to  a  lady,  and  a  foreign  lady." 

"  That 's  a  matter  between  him  and  Nevil.  I  uphold 
him." 

"Then,  my  lord,  I  am  silent." 

Silent  she  remained;  but  Lord  Eomfrey  was  also  silent: 
and  silence  being  a  weapon  of  offence  only  when  it  is  prac- 


406  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

tised  by  one  out  of  two,  she  had  to  reflect  whether  in 
speaking  no  further  she  had  finished  her  business. 

"Captain  Baskelett  stays  at  the  Castle?"  she  asked. 

"He  likes  his  quarters  there." 

"Nevil  could  not  go  down  to  Romfrey,  my  lord.  He 
was  obliged  to  wait,  and  see,  and  help  me  to  entertain,  her 
brother  and  her  husband." 

"  Why,  ma'am  ?  But  I  have  no  objection  to  his  making 
the  marquis  a  happy  husband." 

"He  has  done  what  few  men  would  have  done,  that  she 
may  be  a  self-respecting  wife." 

"  The  parson  's  in  that  fellow  ! "  Lord  Romfrey  ex- 
claimed. "Now  I  have  the  story.  She  came  to  him,  he 
declined  the  gift,  and  you  were  turned  into  the  curtain  for 
them.  If  he  had  only  been  off  with  her,  he  would  have 
done  the  country  good  service.  Here  he  's  a  failure  and 
a  nuisance;  he's  a  common  cock-shy  for  the  journals. 
I  'm  tired  of  hearing  of  him ;  he  's  a  stench  in  our  nostrils. 
He  's  tired  of  the  woman." 

"He  loves  her." 

"Ma'am,  you're  hoodwinked.  If  he  refused  to  have 
her,  there  's  a  something  he  loves  better.  I  don't  believe 
we  've  bred  a  downright  lackadaisical  donkey  in  our 
family :  I  know  him.  He 's  not  a  fellow  for  abstract 
morality:  I  know  him.  It 's  bargain  against  bargain  with 
him;  I  '11  do  him  that  justice.  I  hear  he  has  ordered  the 
removal  of  the  Jersey  bull  from  Holdesbury,  and  the  beast 
is  mine,"  Lord  Romfrey  concluded  in  a  lower  key. 

"Nevil  has  taken  him." 

"Ha!  pull  and  pull,  then!" 

"  He  contends  that  he  is  bound  by  a  promise  to  give  an 
American  gentleman  the  refusal  of  the  bull,  and  you  must 
sign  an  engagement  to  keep  the  animal  no  longer  than  two 
years." 

"I  sign  no  engagement.     I  stick  to  the  bull." 

"Consent  to  see  Nevil  to-night,  my  lord." 

"When  he  has  apologized  to  you,  I  may,  ma'am." 

"  Surely  he  did  more,  in  requesting  me  to  render  him  a 
service  ?  " 

"  There  's  not  a  creature  living  that  fellow  would  n't 
get  to  serve  him,  if  he  knew  the  trick.     We  should  all  of 


THE  EAEL  AND   THE   COUNTESS  407 

US  be  marching  on  London  at  ShrapnePs  heels.  The 
political  mania  is  just  as  incurable  as  hydrophobia,  and 
he  's  bitten.     That  's  clear." 

"Bitten  perhaps:  but  not  mad.  As  you  have  always 
contended,  the  true  case  is  incurable,  but  it  is  very  rare : 
and  is  this  one  ? " 

"It's  uncommonly  like  a  true  case,  though  I  haven't 
seen  him  foam  at  the  mouth,  and  shun  water  —  as  his  mob 
does." 

Kosamund  restrained  some  tears,  betraying  the  effort  to 
hide  the  moisture.  "  I  am  no  match  for  you,  my  lord.  I 
try  to  plead  on  his  behalf;  I  do  worse  than  if  I  were  dumb. 
This  I  most  earnestly  say :  he  is  the  Nevil  Beauchamp  who 
fought  for  his  country,  and  did  not  abandon  her  cause, 
though  he  stood  there  —  we  had  it  from  Colonel  Halkett 
—  a  skeleton:  and  he  is  the  Nevil  who  —  I  am  poorly  pay- 
ing my  debt  to  him !  —  defended  me  from  the  aspersions  of 
his  cousin." 

"  Boys !  "  Lord  Romfrey  ejaculated. 

"It  is  the  same  dispute  between  them  as  men." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  my  proposal  to  shield  you  from  liars 
^  and  scandalmongers  ?  " 

"  Could  I  ever  forget  it  ?  "  Rosamund  appeared  to  come 
shining  out  of  a  cloud.  "  Princeliest  and  truest  gentleman 
I  thought  you  then,  and  I  know  you  to  be,  my  dear  lord. 
I  fancied  I  had  lived  the  scandal  down.  I  was  under  the 
delusion  that  I  had  grown  to  be  past  backbiting;  and  that 
no  man  could  stand  before  me  to  insult  and  vilify  me. 
But,  for  a  woman  in  any  so-called  doubtful  position,  it 
seems  that  the  coward  will  not  be  wanting  to  strike  her. 
In  quitting  your  service,  I  am  able  to  affirm  that  only  once 
during  the  whole  term  of  it  have  I  consciously  overstepped 
the  line  of  my  duties:  it  was  for  Nevil:  and  Captain  Bas- 
kelett  undertook  to  defend  your  reputation,  in  consequence." 

"  Has  the  rascal  been  questioning  your  conduct  ?  "  The 
earl  frowned. 

"Oh,  no!  not  questioning:  he  does  not  question,  he 
accuses :  he  never  doubted :  and  what  he  went  shouting  as 
a  boy,  is  plain  matter  of  fact  to  him  now.  He  is  devoted 
to  you.     It  was  for  your  sake  that  he  desired  me  to  keep 


408  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREEB 

my  name  from  being  mixed  up  in  a  scandal  he  foresaw  the 
occurrence  of  in  your  house." 

"He  permitted  himself  to  sneer  at  you  ?" 

"He  has  the  art  of  sneering.  On  this  occasion  he 
wished  to  be  direct  and  personal." 

"  What  sort  of  hints  were  they  ? " 

Lord  K-omfrey  strode  away  from  her  chair  that  the 
answer  might  be  easy  to  her,  for  she  was  red,  and  evi- 
dently suffering  from  shame  as  well  as  indignation. 

"The  hints  we  call  distinct,"  said  Rosamund. 

"In  words?" 

"In  hard  words." 

"  Then  you  won't  meet  Cecil  ?  " 

Such  a  question,  and  the  tone  of  indifference  in  which  it 
came,  surprised  and  revolted  her  so,  that  the  unreflecting 
reply  leapt  out,  — 

"I  would  rather  meet  a  devil." 

Of  how  tremblingly,  vehemently,  and  hastily  she  had 
said  it,  she  was  unaware.  To  her  lord  it  was  an  outcry  of 
nature,  astutely  touched  by  him  to  put  her  to  proof. 

He  continued  his  long  leisurely  strides,  nodding  over  his 
feet. 

Rosamund  stood  up.  She  looked  a  very  noble  figure  in 
her  broad  black-furred  robe.  "  I  have  one  serious  confes- 
sion to  make,  sir." 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  said  he. 

"  I  would  avoid  it,  for  it  cannot  lead  to  particular  harm ; 
but  I  have  an  enemy  who  may  poison  your  ear  in  my 
absence.  And  first  I  resign  my  position.  I  have  for- 
feited it." 

"Time  goes  forward,  ma'am,  and  you  go  round.  Speak 
to  the  point.  Do  you  mean  that  you  toss  up  the  reins  of 
my  household?" 

"  I  do.     You  trace  it  to  Nevil  immediately  ?  " 

"  I  do.  The  fellow  wants  to  upset  the  country,  and  he 
begins  with  me." 

"You  are  wrong,  my  lord.  What  I  have  done  places  me 
at  Captain  Baskelett's  mercy.  It  is  too  loathsome  to  think 
of:  worse  than  the  whip ;  worse  than  your  displeasure.  It 
might  never  be  known ;  but  the  thought  that  it  might  gives 
me  courage.     You  have  said  that  to  protect  a  woman  every- 


THE  EARL  AND  THE  COUNTESS        409 

thing  is  permissible.  It  is  your  creed,  my  lord,  and  be- 
cause the  world,  T  have  heard  you  say,  is  unjust  and  im- 
placable to  women.  In  some  cases,  I  think  so  too.  In 
reality  I  followed  your  instructions ;  I  mean,  your  exam- 
ple. Cheap  chivalry  on  my  part!  But  it  pained  me  not  a 
little.     I  beg  to  urge  that  in  my  defence." 

"Well,  ma'am,  you  have  tied  the  knot  tight  enough; 
perhaps  now  you'll  cut  it,"  said  the  earl. 

Rosamund  gasped  softly.  "M.  le  marquis- is  a  gentle- 
man who,  after  a  life  of  dissipation,  has  been  reminded  by 
bad  health  that  he  has  a  young  and  beautiful  wife." 

"  He  dug  his  pit  to  fall  into  it :  —  he  's  jealous  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head  to  indicate  the  immeasurable. 

"Senile  jealousy  is  anxious  to  be  deceived.  He  could 
hardly  be  deceived  so  far  as  to  imagine  that  Madame  la 
marquise  would  visit  me,  such  as  I  am,  as  my  guest. 
Knowingly  or  not,  his  very  clever  sister,  a  good  woman, 
and  a  friend  to  husband  and  wife  —  a  Frenchwoman  of  the 
purest  type  —  gave  me  the  title.  She  insisted  on  it,  and  I 
presumed  to  guess  that  she  deemed  it  necessary  for  the 
sake  of  peace  in  that  home." 

Lord  E,omf rey  appeared  merely  inquisitive ;  his  eyebrows 
were  lifted  in  permanence;  his  eyes  were  mild. 

She  continued:  "They  leave  England  in  a  few  hours. 
They  are  not  likely  to  return.  I  permitted  him  to  address 
me  with  the  title  of  countess." 

"  Of  Romfrey  ?  "  said  the  earl. 

Rosamund  bowed. 

His  mouth  contracted.  She  did  not  expect  thunder  to 
issue  from  it,  but  she  did  fear  to  hear  a  sarcasm,  or  that 
she  would  have  to  endure  a  deadly  silence :  and  she  was 
gathering  her  own  lips  in  imitation  of  his,  to  nerve  herself 
for  some  stroke  to  come,  when  he  laughed  in  his  peculiar 
close-mouthed  manner. 

"I  'm  afraid  you  've  dished  yourself." 

"  You  cannot  forgive  me,  my  lord  ?  " 

He  indulged  in  more  of  his  laughter,  and  abruptly  sum- 
moning gravity,  bade  her  talk  to  him  of  affairs.  He  him- 
self talked  of  the  condition  of  the  Castle,  and  with  a  certain 
off-hand  contempt  of  the  ladies  of  the  family,  and  Cecil's 
father.  Sir  John.     "What  are  they  to  me  ?"  said  he,  and 


410  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

he  complained  of  having  been  called  Last  Earl  of 
Romfrey. 

"  The  line  ends  undegenerate, "  said  Kosamund  fervidly, 
though  she  knew  not  where  she  stood. 

"  Ends !  "  quoth  the  earl. 

"I  must  see  Stukely,"  he  added  briskly,  and  stooped  to 
her:  "I  beg  you  to  drive  me  to  my  Club,  countess. '^ 

"Oh!  sir." 

"  Once  a  countess,  always  a  countess ! " 

"  But  once  an  impostor,  my  lord  ?  " 

"Not  always,  we  '11  hope." 

He  enjoyed  this  little  variation  in  the  language  of  com- 
edy ;  letting  it  drop,  to  say :  "  Be  here  to-morrow  early. 
Don't  chase  that  family  away  from  the  house.  Do  as  you 
will,  but  not  a  word  of  Nevil  to  me :  he  's  a  bad  mess  in 
any  man's  porringer;  it 's  time  for  me  to  claim  exemption 
of  him  from  mine." 

She  dared  not  let  her  thoughts  flow,  for  to  think  was  to 
triumph,  and  possibly  to  be  deluded.  They  came  in 
copious  volumes  when  Lord  Eomfrey,  alighting  at  his  Club, 
called,  to  the  coachman,  "Drive  the  countess  home." 

They  were  not  thoughts  of  triumph  absolutely.  In  her 
cooler  mind  she  felt  that  it  was  a  bad  finish  of  a  gallant 
battle.  Few  women  had  risen  against  a  tattling  and  pelt- 
ing world  so  stedf astly ;  and  would  it  not  have  been  better 
to  keep  her  own  ground,  which  she  had  won  with  tears 
and  some  natural  strengh,  and  therewith  her  liberty, 
which  she  prized  ?  The  hateful  Cecil,  a  reminder  of  whom 
set  her  cheeks  burning  and  turned  her  heart  to  serpent, 
had  forced  her  to  it.  So  she  honestly  conceived,  owing  to 
the  circumstance  of  her  honestly  disliking  the  pomps  of 
life  and  not  desiring  to  occupy  any  position  of  brilliancy. 
She  thought  assuredly  of  her  hoard  of  animosity  toward 
the  scandal-mongers,  and  of  the  quiet  glance  she  would 
cast  behind  on  them,  and  below.  That  thought  came  as  a 
fruit,  not  as  a  reflection. 

But  if  ever  two  offending  young  gentlemen,  nephews  of 
a  long-suffering  uncle,  were  circumvented,  undermined, 
and  struck  to  earth,  with  one  blow,  here  was  the  instance. 
This  was  accomplished  by  Lord  Romfrey's  resolution  to 
make  the  lady  he  had  learnt  to  esteem  his  countess :  and 


THE  NEPHEWS   OF  THE  EARL  411 

more,  it  fixed  to  him  for  life  one  whom  he  could  not  bear 
to  think  of  losing :  and  still  more,  it  might  be ;  but  what 
more  was  unwritten  on  his  tablets. 

Rosamund  failed  to  recollect  that  Everard  Romfrey 
never  took  a  step  without  seeing  a  combination  of  objects 
to  be  gained  by  it. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


THE    NEPHEWS    OP     THE    EARL,     AND     ANOTHER     EXHIBITION 
OF    THE   TWO    PASSIONS    IN    BEAUCHAMP 

It  was  now  the  season  when  London  is  as  a  lighted  tower 
to  her  provinces,  and,  among  other  gentlemen  hurried 
thither  by  attraction,  Captain  Baskelett  arrived.  Although 
not  a  personage  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  was  a  vote ; 
and  if  he  never  committed  himself  to  the  perils  of  a 
speech,  he  made  himself  heard.  His  was  the  part  of 
chorus,  which  he  performed  with  a  fairly  close  imitation 
of  the  original  cries  of  periods  before  parliaments  were 
instituted,  thus  representing  a  stage  in  the  human  devel- 
opment besides  the  borough  of  Bevisham.  He  arrived  in 
the  best  of  moods  for  the  emission  of  high-pitched  vowel- 
sounds;  otherwise  in  the  worst  of  tempers.  His  uncle 
had  notified  an  addition  of  his  income  to  him  at  Romfrey, 
together  with  commands  that  he  should  quit  the  castle 
instantly:  and  there  did  that  woman.  Mistress  Culling,  do 
the  honours  to  Nevil  Beauchamp's  French  party.  He 
assured  Lord  Palmet  of  his  positive  knowledge  of  the  fact, 
incredible  as  the  sanction  of  such  immoral  proceedings  by 
the  Earl  of  Romfrey  must  appear  to  that  young  nobleman. 
Additions  to  income  are  of  course  acceptable,  but  in  the 
form  of  a  palpable  stipulation  for  silence,  they  neither 
awaken  gratitude  nor  effect  their  purpose.  Quite  the 
contrary;  they  prick  the  moral  mind  to  sit  in  judgement 
on  the  donor.  It  means,  she  fears  me  !  Cecil  confidently 
thought  and  said  of  the  intriguing  woman  who  managed 
his  patron. 


412  BEAUCHAIVIP'S   CAREER 

The  town-house  was  open  to  him.  Lord  Romfrey  was 
at  Steynham.  Cecil  could  not  suppose  that  he  was  falling 
into  a  pit  in  entering  it.  He  happened  to  be  the  favourite 
of  the  old  housekeeper,  who  liked  him  for  his  haughti- 
ness, which  was  to  her  thinking  the  sign  of  real  English 
nobility,  and  perhaps  it  is  the  popular  sign,  and  a  tonic  to 
the  people.  She  raised  lamentations  over  the  shame  of 
the  locking  of  the  door  against  him  that  awful  night, 
declaring  she  had  almost  mustered  courage  to  go  down  to 
him  herself,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Culling's  orders.  The  old 
woman  lowered  her  voice  to  tell  him  that  her  official  supe- 
rior had  permitted  the  French  gentlemen  and  ladies  to  call 
her  countess.  This  she  knew  for  a  certainty,  though  she 
knew  nothing  of  French ;  but  the  French  lady  who  came 
second  brought  a  maid  who  knew  English  a  little,  and  she 
said  the  very  words  —  the  countess,  and  said  also  that  her 
party  took  Mrs.  Culling  for  the  Countess  of  Romfrey. 
What  was  more,  my  lord's  coachman  caught  it  up,  and  he 
called  her  countess,  and  he  had  a  quarrel  about  it  with  the 
footman  Kendall ;  and  the  day  after  a  dreadful  affair  be- 
tween them  in  the  mews,  home  drives  madam,  and  Kendall 
is  to  go  up  to  her,  and  down  the  poor  man  comes,  and 
not  a  word  to  be  got  out  of  him,  but  as  if  he  had  seen  a 
ghost. 

"She  have  such  power,"  Cecil's  admirer  concluded. 

"I  wager  I  match  her,"  Cecil  said  to  himself,  pulling  at 
his  wristbands  and  letting  his  lower  teeth  shine  out.  The 
means  of  matching  her  were  not  so  palpable  as  the  resolu- 
tion. First  he  took  men  into  his  confidence.  Then  he 
touched  lightly  on  the  story  to  ladies,  with  the  question, 
"What  ought  I  to  do?"  In  consideration  for  the  Earl  of 
Romfrey  he  ought  not  to  pass  it  over,  he  suggested.  The 
ladies  of  the  family  urged  him  to  go  to  Steynham  and 
boldly  confront  the  woman.  He  was  not  prepared  for 
that.  Better,  it  seemed  to  Mm,  to  blow  the  rumour,  and 
make  it  a  topic  of  the  season,  until  Lord  Romfrey  should 
hear  of  it.  Cecil  had  the  ear  of  the  town  for  a  month. 
He  was  in  the  act  of  slicing  the  air  with  his  right  hand  in 
his  accustomed  style,  one  evening  at  Lady  Elsea's,  to  pro- 
test how  vast  was  the  dishonour  done  to  the  family  by 
Mistress  Culling,  when  Stukely  Culbrett  stopped  him,  say- 


THE   NEPHEWS    OF   THE   EARL  413 

ing,  "  The  lady  you  speak  of  is  the  Countess  of  Romfrey. 
I  was  present  at  the  marriage." 

Cecil  received  the  shock  in  the  attitude  of  those  martial 
figures  we  see  wielding  two  wooden  swords  in  provincial 
gardens  to  tell  the  disposition  of  the  wind:  abruptly  aban- 
doned by  it,  they  stand  transfixed,  one  sword  aloft,  the 
other  at  their  heels.  The  resemblance  extended  to  his 
astonished  countenance.  His  big  chest  heaved.  Like 
many  another  wounded  giant  before  him,  he  experienced 
the  insufficiency  of  interjections  to  solace  pain.  For  them, 
however,  the  rocks  were  handy  to  fling,  the  trees  to 
uproot;  heaven's  concave  resounded  companionably  to  their 
bellowings.  Eelief  of  so  concrete  a  kind  is  not  to  be 
obtained  in  crowded  London  assemblies. 

*'  You  are  jesting  ?  —  you  are  a  jester,"  he  contrived  to 
say. 

"  It  was  a  private  marriage,  and  I  was  a  witness,"  replied 
Stukely. 

"  Lord  Romfrey  has  made  an  honest  woman  of  her,  has 
he?" 

"A  peeress,  you  mean." 

Cecil  bowed.  "  Exactly.  I  am  corrected.  I  mean  a 
peeress." 

He  got  out  of  the  room  with  as  high  an  air  as  he  could 
command,  feeling  as  if  a  bar  of  iron  had  flattened  his 
head. 

Next  day  it  was  intimated  to  him  by  one  of  the  Steynham 
servants  that  apartments  were  ready  for  him  at  the  resi- 
dence of  the  late  earl :  Lord  Romfrey's  house  was  about  to 
be  occupied  by  the  Countess  of  Romfrey.  Cecil  had  to  quit, 
and  he  chose  to  be  enamoured  of  that  dignity  of  sulking  so 
seductive  to  the  wounded  spirit  of  man. 

Rosamund,  Countess  of  Romfrey,  had  worse  to  endure 
from  Beauchamp.  He  indeed  came  to  the  house,  and  he 
went  through  the  formalities  of  congratulation,  but  his 
opinion  of  her  step  was  unconcealed,  that  she  had  taken  it 
for  the  title.  He  distressed  her  by  reviving  the  case  of  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  as  though  it  were  a  matter  of  yesterday,  telling 
her  she  had  married  a  man  with  a  stain  on  him  ;  she  should 
have  exacted  the  Apology  as  a  nuptial  present ;  ay,  and  she 
would  have  done  it  if  she  had  cared  for  the  earFs  honour  or 


414  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

her  own.  So  little  did  he  understand  men>!  so  tenacious 
was  he  of  his  ideas  !  She  had  almost  forgotten  the  case  of 
Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  to  see  it  shooting  up  again  in  the  new 
path  of  her  life  was  really  irritating. 

Eosamund  did  not  defend  herself. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,  Nevil,"  she  said  ;  "  youi 
uncle  holds  to  the  ceremony.  I  may  be  of  real  use  to  yoq 
now  ;  I  wish  to  be." 

"  You  have  only  to  prove  it,''  said  he.  "  If  you  can  turrj 
his  mind  to  marriage,  you  can  send  him  to  Bevisham.'' 

"  My  chief  thought  is  to  serve  you." 

"I  know  it  is,  I  know  it  is,"  he  rejoined  with  some  fer^ 
vour.  "You  have  served  me,  and  made  me  miserable  for 
life,  and  rightly.  Never  mind,  all 's  well  while  the  hand 's 
to  the  axe."  Beauchamp  smoothed  his  forehead  roughly, 
trying  hard  to  inspire  himself  with  the  tonic  draughts  of 
sentiments  cast  in  the  form  of  proverbs.  "  Lord  Eomfrey 
saw  her,  you  say  ?  " 

"He  did,  Nevil,  and  admired  her." 

"  Well,  if  I  suffer,  let  me  think  of  her  !  For  courage  and 
nobleness  I  shall  never  find  her  equal.  Have  you  changed 
your  ideas  of  Frenchwomen  now  ?  Not  a  word,  you  say, 
not  a  look,  to  show  her  disdain  of  me  whenever  my  name 
was  mentioned ! " 

"She  could  scarcely  feel  disdain.  She  was  guilty  of  a 
sad  error." 

^^  Through  trusting  in  me.  Will  nothing  teach  you  where 
the  fault  lies  ?  You  women  have  no  mercy  for  women. 
She  went  through  the  parade  to  Komfrey  Castle  and  back, 
and  she  must  have  been  perishing  at  heart.  That,  you 
English  call  acting.  In  history  you  have  a  respect  for  such 
acting  up  to  the  scaffold.  Good-bye  to  her!  There's  a 
,  story  ended.  One  thing  you  must  promise :  you  're  a 
peeress,  ma'am :  the  story's  out,  everybody  has  heard  of 
it ;  that  babbler  has  done  his  worst :  if  you  have  a  becoming 
appreciation  of  your  title,  you  will  promise  me  honestly  — 
no,  give  me  your  word  as  a  woman  I  can  esteem — that  you 
will  not  run  about  excusing  me.  Whatever  you  hear  said 
or  suggested,  say  nothing  yourself.  I  insist  on  your  keep- 
ing silence.     Press  my  hand." 

"  Nevil,  how  foolish ! " 


THE  NEPHEWS  OF  THE  EARL         415 

"It's  my  will." 

"  It  is  unreasonable.     You  give  your  enemies  license/' 
"  I  know  what 's  in  your  head.     Take  my  hand,  and  let 
me  have  your  word  for  it." 

"But  if  persons  you  like  very  much,  Nevil,  should 
hear?" 

"  Promise.     You  are  a  woman  not  to  break  your  word." 

"  If  I  decline  ?  " 

"Your  hand!     I '11  kiss  it." 

"  Oh !  my  darling."  Rosamund  flung  her  arms  round 
him  and  strained  him  an  instant  to  her  bosom.  "What 
have  I  but  you  in  the  world  ?  My  comfort  was  the  hope 
that  I  might  serve  you." 

"  Yes !  by  slaying  one  woman  as  an  offering  to  another. 
It  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  speak  the  truth.  Don't 
you  see,  it  would  be  a  lie  against  her,  and  making  a  figure 
of  me  that  a  man  would  rather  drop  to  the  ground  than 
have  shown  of  him  ?  I  was  to  blame,  and  only  I.  Madame 
de  Rouaillout  was  as  utterly  deceived  by  me  as  ever  a 
trusting  woman  by  a  brute.  I  look  at  myself  and  hardly 
believe  it 's  the  same  man.  I  wrote  to  her  that  I  was  un- 
changed —  and  I  was  entirely  changed,  another  creature, 
anything  Lord  Rbmfrey  may  please  to  call  me." 

"  But,  Nevil,  I  repeat,  if  Miss  Halkett  should  hear  .  .  .  ?  " 

"  She  knows  by  this  time." 

"  At  present  she  is  ignorant  of  it.'* 

"  And  what  is  Miss  Halkett  to  me  ?  " 

"More  than  you  imagined  in  that  struggle  you  under- 
went, I  think,  Nevil.  Oh  !  if  only  to  save  her  from  Captain 
Baskelett !  He  gained  your  uncle's  consent  when  they 
were  at  the  Castle,  to  support  him  in  proposing  for  her. 
He  is  persistent.  Women  have  been  snared  without 
loving.  She  is  a  great  heiress.  Eeflect  on  his  use  of  her 
wealth.  You  respect  her,  if  you  have  no  warmer  feeling. 
Let  me  assure  you  that  the  husband  of  Cecilia,  if  he  is  of 
Romfrey  blood,  has  the  fairest  chance  of  the  estates.  That 
man  will  employ  every  weapon.  He  will  soon  be  here  bow- 
ing to  me  to  turn  me  to  his  purposes." 

"  Cecilia  can  see  through  Baskelett,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Single-mindedly  selfish  men  may  be  seen  through  and 
through,  and  still  be  dangerous,  Nevil.    The  supposition  is, 


416  BBAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

that  we  know  the  worst  of  them.  He  carries  a  story  to 
poison  her  mind.  She  could  resist  it,  if  you  and  she  were 
in  full  confidence  together.  If  she  did  not  love  you,  she 
could  resist  it.  She  does,  and  for  some  strange  reason  be- 
yond my  capacity  to  fathom,  you  have  not  come  to  an  under- 
standing. Sanction  my  speaking  to  her,  just  to  put  her  on 
her  guard,  privately :  not  to  injure  that  poor  lady,  but  to 
explain^  Shall  she  not  know  the  truth  ?  I  need  say  but 
very  little.  Indeed,  all  I  can  say  is,  that  finding  the  mar- 
quise in  London  one  evening,  you  telegraphed  for  me  to 
attend  on  her,  and  I  joined  you.  You  shake  your  head. 
But  surely  it  is  due  to  Miss  Halkett.  She  should  be  pro- 
tected from  what  will  certainly  wound  her  deeply.  Her 
father  is  afraid  of  you,  on  the  score  of  your  theories.  I 
foresee  it :  he  will  hear  the  scandal :  he  will  imagine  you 
as  bad  in  morals  as  in  politics.  And  you  have  lost  your 
friend  in  Lord  Eomfrey  —  though  he  shall  not  be  your 
enemy.  Colonel  Halkett  and  Cecilia  called  on  us  at  Steyn- 
ham.  She  was  looking  beautiful ;  a  trifle  melancholy. 
The  talk  was  of  your  —  that  —  I  do  not  like  it,  but  you  hold 
those  opinions  —  the  Republicanism.  She  had  read  your  pub- 
lished letters.  She  spoke  to  me  of  your  sincerity.  Colonel 
Halkett  of  course  was  vexed.  It  is  the  same  with  all  your 
friends.  She,  however,  by  her  tone,  led  me  to  think  that 
she  sees  you  as  you  are,  more  than  in  what  you  do.  They 
are  now  in  Wales.  They  will  be  in  town  after  Easter. 
Then  you  must  expect  that  her  feeling  for  you  will  be 
tried,  unless  —  But  you  will !  You  will  let  me  speak  to 
her,  Nevil.  My  position  allows  me  certain  liberties  I  was 
previously  debarred  from.  You  have  not  been  so  very  ten- 
der to  your  Cecilia  that  you  can  afford  to  give  her  fresh 
reasons  for  sorrowful  perplexity.  And  why  should  you 
stand  to  be  blackened  by  scandal-mongers  when  a  few 
words  of  mine  will  prove  that  instead  of  weak  you  have 
been  strong,  instead  of  libertine  blameless  ?  I  am  not 
using  fine  phrases :  I  would  not.  I  would  be  as  thoughtful 
of  you  as  if  you  were  present.  And  for  her  sake,  I  repeat, 
the  truth  should  be  told  to  her.     I  have  a  lock  of  her  hair.'' 

"  Cecilia's  ?    Where  ?  "  said  Beauchamp. 

"  It  is  at  Steynham."  Rosamund  primmed  her  lips  at 
the  success  of  her  probing  touch  j  but  she  was  unaware  of 


THE  NEPHEWS  OF  THE  EARL         417 

the  chief  reason  for  his  doting  on  those  fair  locks,  and  how 
they  coloured  his  imagination  since  the  day  of  the  drive 
into  Bevisham. 

"  Now  leave  me,  my  dear  Nevil,"  she  said.  "  Lord  Eom- 
frey  will  soon  be  here,  and  it  is  as  well  for  the  moment  that 
you  should  not  meet  him,  if  it  can  be  avoided." 

Beauchamp  left  her,  like  a  man  out-argued  and  overcome. 
He  had  no  wish  to  meet  his  uncle,  whose  behaviour  in  con- 
tracting a  misalliance  and  casting  a  shadow  on  the  family, 
in  a  manner  so  perfectly  objectless  and  senseless,  appeared 
to  him  to  call  for  the  reverse  of  compliments.  Cecilia's 
lock  of  hair  lying  at  Steynham  hung  in  his  mind.  He 
saw  the  smooth  flat  curl  lying  secret  like  a  smile. 

The  graceful  head  it  had  fallen  from  was  dimmer  in  his 
mental  eye.  He  went  so  far  in  this  charmed  meditation  as 
to  feel  envy  of  the  possessor  of  the  severed  lock :  passingly 
he  wondered,  with  the  wonder  of  reproach,  that  the  possessor 
should  deem  it  enough  to  possess  the  lock,  and  resign  it  to 
a  drawer  or  a  desk.  And  as  when  life  rolls  back  on  us  after 
the  long  ebb  of  illness,  little  whispers  and  diminutive  images 
of  the  old  joys  and  prizes  of  life  arrest  and  fill  our  hearts ; 
or  as,  to  men  who  have  been  beaten  down  by  storms,  the 
opening  of  a  daisy  is  dearer  than  the  blazing  orient  which 
bids  it  open ;  so  the  visionary  lock  of  Cecilia's  hair  became 
Cecilia's  self  to  Beauchamp,  yielding  him  as  much  of  her 
as  he  could  bear  to  think  of,  for  his  heart  was  shattered. 

Why  had  she  given  it  to  his  warmest  friend  ?  For  the 
asking,  probably. 

This  question  was  the  first  ripple  of  the  breeze  from  other 
emotions  beginning  to  flow  fast. 

He  walked  out  of  London,  to  be  alone,  and  to  think :  and 
from  the  palings  of  a  road  on  a  South-western  run  of  high 
land,  he  gazed  at  the  great  city  —  a  place  conquerable  yet, 
with  the  proper  appliances  for  subjugating  it :  the  starting 
of  his  daily  newspaper,  The  Dawn,  say  as  a  commencement. 
It  began  to  seem  a  possible  enterprise.  It  soon  seemed  a 
proximate  one.  If  Cecilia !  —  He  left  the  exclamation  a 
blank,  but  not  an  empty  dash  in  the  brain ;  rather  like  the 
shroud  of  night  on  a  vast  and  gloriously  imagined  land. 

Kay,  the  prospect  was  partly  visible,  as  the  unknown 
country  becomes  by  degrees  to  the  traveller's  optics  on  the 

27 


418 

dark  hill-tops.  It  is  much,  of  course,  to  be  domestically 
well-mated :  but  to  be  fortified  and  armed  by  one's  wife  with 
a  weapon  to  fight  the  world,  is  rare  good  fortune;  a  rap- 
turous and  an  infinite  satisfaction.  He  could  now  support 
of  his  own  resources  a  weekly  paper.  A  paper  published 
weekly,  however,  is  a  poor  thing,  out  of  the  tide,  behind  the 
date,  mainly  a  literary  periodical,  no  foremost  combatant  in 
politics,  no  champion  in  the  arena;  hardly  better  than  a 
commentator  on  the  events  of  the  six  past  days;  an  echo, 
not  a  voice.  It  sits  on  a  Saturday  bench  and  pretends  to 
sum  up.  Who  listens  ?  The  verdict  knocks  dust  out  of  a 
cushion.  It  has  no  steady  continuous  pressure  of  influence. 
It  is  the  organ  of  sleepers.  Of  all  the  bigger  instruments 
of  money,  it  is  the  feeblest,  Beauchamp  thought.  His  con- 
stant faith  in  the^ood  effects  of  utterance  naturally  inclined 
him  to  value  six  occasions  per  week  above  one ;  and  in  the 
fight  he  was  for  waging,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
enter  the  ring  and  hit  blow  for  blow  sans  intermission.  A 
statement  that  he  could  call  false  must  be  challenged  hot  the 
next  morning.  The  covert  Toryism,  the  fits  of  flunkeyism, 
the  cowardice,  of  the  relapsing  middle-class,  which  is  now 
England  before  mankind,  because  it  fills  the  sails  of  the 
Press,  must  be  exposed.  It  supports  the  Press  in  its  own 
interests,  affecting  to  speak  for  the  people.  It  belies  the 
people.  And  this  Press,  declaring  itself  independent,  can 
hardly  walk  for  fear  of  treading  on  an  interest  here,  an 
interest  there.  It  cannot  have  a  conscience.  It  is  a  bad 
guide,  a  false  guardian ;  its  abject  claim  to  be  our  national 
and  popular  interpreter — even  that  is  hollow  and  a  mockery ! 
It  is  powerful  only  while  subservient.  An  engine  of  money, 
appealing  to  the  sensitiveness  of  money,  it  has  no  connection 
with  the  mind  of  the  nation.  And  that  it  is  not  of,  but  apart 
from,  the  people,  may  be  seen  when  great  crises  come.  Can 
it  stop  a  war  ?  The  people  would,  and  with  thunder,  had 
they,  the  medium.  But  in  strong  gales  the  power  of  the 
Press  collapses;  it  wheezes  like  a  pricked  pigskin  of  a 
piper.  At  its  best  Beauchamp  regarded  our  lordly  Press 
as  a  curiously  diapered  curtain  and  delusive  mask,  behind 
which  the  country  struggles  vainly  to  show  an  honest  fea- 
ture ;  and  as  a  trumpet  that  deafened  and  terrorized  the 
people ;  a  mere  engine  of  leaguers  banded  to  keep  a  smooth 


THE   NEPHEWS   OF   THE  EARL  419 

face  upon  affairs,  quite  soulless! y :  he  meanwhile  having  to 
be  dumb. 

But  a  Journal  that  should  be  actually  independent  of  cir- 
culation and  advertisements  :  a  popular  journal  in  the  true 
sense,  very  lungs  to  the  people,  for  them  to  breathe  freely 
through  at  last,  and  be  heard  out  of  it,  with  well-paid  men 
of  mark  to  head  and  aid  them ;  —  the  establishment  of  such 
a  Journal  seemed  to  him  brave  work  of  a  life,  though  one 
should  die  early.  The  money  launching  it  would  be  coin 
washed  pure  of  its  iniquity  of  selfish  reproduction,  by  service 
to  mankind.  This  Dawn  of  his  conception  stood  over  him 
like  a  rosier  Aurora  for  the  country.  He  beheld  it  in  imagi- 
nation as  a  new  light  rising  above  hugeous  London.  You 
turn  the  sheets  of  The  Dawn,  and  it  is  the  manhood  of  the 
land  addressing  you,  no  longer  that  alternately  puling  and 
insolent  cry  of  the  coffers.  The  health,  wealth,  comfort, 
contentment  of  the  greater  number  are  there  to  be  striven 
for,  in  contempt  of  compromise  and  "  unseasonable  times." 

Beauchamp's  illuminated  dream  of  the  power  of  his 
Dawx  to  vitalize  old  England,  liberated  him  singularly 
from  his  wearing  regrets  and  heart-sickness. 

Surely  Cecilia,  who  judged  him  sincere,  might  be  bent  to 
join  hands  with  him  for  so  good  a  work  !  She  would  bring 
riches  to  her  husband :  sufiicient.  He  required  the  ablest 
men  of  the  country  to  write  for  him,  and  it  was  just  that 
they  should  be  largely  paid.  They  at  least  in  their  present 
public  apathy  would  demand  it.  To  fight  the  brewers,  dis- 
tillers, publicans,  the  shopkeepers,  the  parsons,  the  land- 
lords, the  law  limpets,  and  also  the  indifferents,  the  logs, 
the  cravens  and  the  fools,  high  talent  was  needed,  and  an 
ardour  stimulated  by  rates  of  pay  outdoing  the  offers  of 
the  lucre-journals.  A  large  annual  outlay  would  therefore 
be  needed  ;  possibly  for  as  long  as  a  quarter  of  a  century. 
Cecilia  and  her  husband  would  have  to  live  modestly.  But 
her  inheritance  would  be  immense.  Colonel  Halkett  had 
never  spent  a  tenth  of  his  income.  In  time  he  might  be 
taught  to  perceive  in  The  Dawn  the  one  greatly  beneficent 
enterprise  of  his  day.  He  might :  through  his  daughter's 
eyes,  and  the  growing  success  of  the  Journal.  Benevolent 
and  gallant  old  man,  patriotic  as  he  was,  and  kind  at  heart, 
he  might  learn  to  see  in  The  Dawn  a  broader  channel  of 


420  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

philanthropy  and  chivalry  than  any  we  have  yet  had  a 
notion  of  in  England !  —  a  school  of  popular  education  into 
the  bargain. 

Beauchamp  reverted  to  the  shining  curl.  It  could  not 
have  been  clearer  to  vision  if  it  had  lain  under  his  eyes. 

Ay,  that  first  wild  life  of  his  was  dead.  He  had  slain  it. 
Now  for  the  second  and  sober  life  !  Who  can  say  ?  The 
Countess  of  E-omfrey  suggested  it :  —  Cecilia  may  have 
prompted  him  in  his  unknown  heart  to  the  sacrifice  of  a 
lawless  love,  though  he  took  it  for  simply  barren  iron  duty. 
Brooding  on  her,  he  began  to  fancy  the  victory  over  himself 
less  and  less  a  lame  one :  for  it  waxed  less  and  less  difi&cult 
in  his  contemplation  of  it.  He  was  looking  forward  instead 
of  back. 

Who  cut  off  the  lock?  Probably  Cecilia  herself;  and 
thinking  at  the  moment  that  he  would  see  it,  perhaps  beg 
for  it.  The  lustrous  little  ring  of  hair  wound  round  his 
heart;  smiled  both  on  its  emotions  and  its  aims;  bound 
them  in  one. 

But  proportionately  as  he  grew  tender  to  Cecilia,  his  con- 
sideration for  Renee  increased ;  that  became  a  law  to  him  : 
pity  nourished  it,  and  glimpses  of  self-contempt,  and  some- 
thing like  worship  of  her  high-heart edness. 

He  wrote  to  the  countess,  forbidding  her  sharply  and 
absolutely  to  attempt  a  vindication  of  him  by  explanations 
to  any  person  whomsoever  ;  and  stating  that  he  would  have 
no  falsehoods  told,  he  desired  her  to  keep  to  the  original 
tale  of  the  visit  of  the  French  family  to  her  as  guests  of 
the  Countess  of  Romfrey.  Contradictory  indeed.  Rosa- 
mund shook  her  head  over  him.  "For  a  wilful  character 
that  is  guilty  of  issuing  contradictory  commands  to  friends 
who  would  be  friends  in  spite  of  him,  appears  to  be  ex- 
pressly angling  for  the  cynical  spirit,  so  surely  does  it  rise 
and  snap  at  such  provocation.  He  was  even  more  emphatic 
when  they  next  met.  He  would  not  listen  to  a  remon- 
strance ;  and  though,  of  course,  her  love  of  him  granted 
him  the  liberty  to  speak  to  her  in  what  tone  he  pleased, 
there  were  sensations  proper  to  her  new  rank  which  his 
intemperateness  wounded  and  tempted  to  revolt  when  he 
vexed  her  with  unreason.  She  had  a  glimpse  of  the  face 
he  might  wear  to  his  enemies. 


THE  NEPHEWS  OF  THE  EARL         421 

He  was  quite  as  resolute,  too,  about  that  slight  matter  of 
the  Jersey  bull.  He  had  the  bull  in  Bevisham,  and  would 
not  give  him  up  without  the  sign  manual  of  Lord  Romfrey 
to  an  agreement  to  resign  him  over  to  the  American  Quaker 
gentleman,  after  a  certain  term.  Moreover,  not  once  had  he, 
by  exclamation  or  innuendo,  during  the  period  of  his  recent 
grief  for  the  loss  of  his  first  love,  complained  of  his  uncle 
Everard's  refusal  in  the  old  days  to  aid  him  in  suing  for 
Renee.  Rosamund  had  expected  that  he  would.  She 
thought  it  unloverlike  in  him  not  to  stir  the  past,  and  to 
bow  to  intolerable  facts.  This  idea  of  him,  coming  in  con- 
junction with  his  present  behaviour,  convinced  her  that 
there  existed  a  contradiction  in  his  nature:  whence  it 
ensued  that  she  lost  her  warmth  as  an  advocate  designing 
to  intercede  for  him  with  Cecilia ;  and  warmth  being  gone, 
the  power  of  the  scandal  seemed  to  her  unassailable.  How 
she  could  ever  have  presumed  to  combat  it,  was  an  aston- 
ishment to  her.  Cecilia  might  be  indulgent,  she  might 
have  faith  in  Nevil.     Little  else  could  be  hoped  for. 

The  occupations,  duties,  and  ceremonies  of  her  new  posi- 
tion contributed  to  the  lassitude  into  which  Rosamund 
sank.  And  she  soon  had  a  communication  to  make  to  her 
lord,  the  nature  of  which  was  more  startling  to  herself, 
even  tragic.  The  bondwoman  is  a  free  woman  compared 
with  the  wife. 

Lord  Romfrey's  friends  noticed  a  glow  of  hearty  health 
in  the  splendid  old  man,  and  a  prouder  animation  of  eye  and 
stature ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  matrimony  suited  him  well. 
Luckily  for  Cecil  he  did  not  sulk  very  long.  A  spectator  of 
the  earl's  first  introduction  to  the  House  of  Peers,  he  called 
on  his  uncle  the  following  day,  and  Rosamund  accepted  his 
homage  in  her  husband's  presence.  He  vowed  that  my  lord 
was  the  noblest  figure  in  the  whole  assembly ;  that  it  had 
been  to  him  the  most  moving  sight  he  had  ever  witnessed ; 
that  Nevil  should  have  been  there  to  see  it  and  experience 
what  he  had  felt;  it  would  have  done  old  Nevil  incalculable 
good !  and  as  far  as  his  grief  at  the  idea  and  some  reticence 
would  let  him  venture,  he  sighed  to  think  of  the  last  Earl 
of  Romfrey  having  been  seen  by  him  taking  the  seat  of  his 
fathers. 

Lord  Romfrey  shouted  "  Ha ! "  like  a  checked  peal  of 
laughter,  and  glanced  at  his  wife. 


422  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREEE 

CHAPTER  XLV 

A  LITTLE   PLOT   AGAINST   CECILIA 

Some  days  before  Easter  week  Seymour  Austin  went  to 
Mount  Laurels  for  rest,  at  an  express  invitation  from  Colo- 
nel Halkett.  The  working  barrister,  who  is  also  a  working 
Member  of  Parliament,  is  occasionally  reminded  that  tliis 
mortal  machine  cannot  adapt  itself  in  perpetuity  to  the 
long  hours  of  labour  by  night  in  the  House  of  Commons  as 
well  as  by  day  in  the  Courts,  which  would  seem  to  have 
been  arranged  by  a  compliant  country  for  the  purpose  of 
aiding  his  particular,  and  most  honourable,  ambition  to 
climb,  while  continuing  to  fill  his  purse.  Mr.  Austin  broke 
down  early  in  the  year.  He  attributed  it  to  a  cold.  Other 
representative  gentlemen  were  on  their  backs,  of  whom  he 
could  admit  that  the  protracted  night-work  had  done  them 
harm,  with  the  reservation  that  their  constitutions  were 
originally  unsound.  But  the  House  cannot  get  on  with- 
out lawyers,  and  lawyers  must  practise  their  profession, 
and  if  they  manage  both  to  practise  all  day  and  sit  half  the 
night,  others  should  be  able  to  do  the  simple  late  sitting ; 
and  we  English  are  an  energetic  people,  we  must  toil  or  be 
beaten:  and  besides,  '*  night  brings  bounsel,"  men  are  cooler 
and  wiser  by  night.  Any  amount  of  work  can  be  performed 
by  careful  feeders :  it  is  the  stomach  that  kills  the  English- 
man. Brains  are  never  the  worse  for  activity ;  they  sub- 
sist on  it. 

These  arguments  and  citations,  good  and  absurd,  of  a  man 
more  at  home  in  his  harness  than  out  of  it,  were  addressed 
to  the  colonel  to  stop  his  remonstrances  and  idle  talk  about 
burning  the  candle  at  both  ends.  To  that  illustration  Mr. 
Austin  replied  that  he  did  not  burn  it  in  the  middle. 

"  But  you  don't  want  money,  Austin." 

^'  No ;  but  since  I  Ve  had  the  habit  of  making  it  I  have 
taken  to  like  it." 

"But  you  're  not  ambitious." 

"  Very  little  ;  but  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  out  of  the  tide- 
way." 


A  LITTLE  PLOT  AGAINST  CECILIA  423 

"  I  call  it  a  system  of  slaughter,"  said  the  colonel ;  and 
Mr.  Austin  said,  "  The  world  goes  in  that  way  —  love  and 
slaughter." 

^'  Not  suicide  though,"  Colonel  Halkett  muttered. 

"No,  that's  only  incidental." 

The  casual  word  "  love  "  led  Colonel  Halkett  to  speak  to 
Cecilia  of  an  old  love-affair  of  Seymour  Austin's,  in  discuss- 
ing the  state  of  his  health  with  her.  The  lady  was  the 
daughter  of  a  famous  admiral,  handsome,  and  latterly  of 
light  fame.  Mr.  Austin  had  nothing  to  regret  in  her  having 
married  a  man  richer  than  himself. 

"  I  wish  he  had  married  a  good  woman,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  He  looks  unwell,  papa." 

"He  thinks  you  're  looking  unwell,  my  dear." 

"He  thinks  that  of  me?" 

Cecilia  prepared  a  radiant  face  for  Mr.  Austin. 

She  forgot  to  keep  it  kindled,  and  he  suspected  her  to 
be  a  victim  of  one  of  the  forms  of  youthful  melancholy,  and 
laid  stress  on  the  benefit  to  health  of  a  change  of  scene. 

"  We  have  just  returned  from  Wales,"  she  said. 

He  remarked  that  it  was  hardly  a  change  to  be  within 
shot  of  our  newspapers. 

The  colour  left  her  cheeks.  She  fancied  her  father  had 
betrayed  her  to  the  last  man  who  should  know  her  secret. 
Beauchamp  and  the  newspapers  were  rolled  together  in  her 
mind  by  the  fever  of  apprehension  wasting  her  ever  since 
his  declaration  of  Republicanism,  and  defence  of  it,  and  an 
allusion  to  one  must  imply  the  other,  she  feared  :  —  feared, 
but  far  from  quailingly.  She  had  come  to  think  that  she 
could  read  the  man  she  loved,  and  detect  a  reasonableness 
in  his  extravagance.  Her  father  had  discovered  the  im- 
policy of  attacking  Beauchamp  in  her  hearing.  The  fever 
by  which  Cecilia  was  possessed  on  her  lover's  behalf,  often 
overcame  discretion,  set  her  judgement  in  a  whirl,  was  like 
a  delirium.  How  it  had  happened  she  knew  not.  She 
knew  only  her  wretched  state  ;  a  frenzy  seized  her  when- 
ever his  name  was  uttered,  to  excuse,  account  for,  all  but 
glorify  him  publicly.  And  the  immodesty  of  her  conduct 
was  perceptible  to  her  while  she  thus  made  her  heart  bare. 
She  exposed  herself  once  of  late  at  Itchincope,  and  had 
tried  to  school  her  tongue  before  she  went  there.      She  felt 


424  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

that  she  should  inevitably  be  seen  through  by  Seymour 
Austin  if  he  took  the  world's  view  of  Beauchamp,  and  this 
to  her  was  like  a  descent  on  the  rapids  to  an  end  one  shuts 
eyes  from. 

He  noticed  her  perturbation,  and  spoke  of  it  to  her  father. 

"  Yes,  I  'm  very  miserable  about  her,"  the  colonel  con- 
fessed. "  Girls  don't  see  .  .  .  they  can't  guess  .  .  .  they 
have  no  idea  of  the  right  kind  of  man  for  them.  A  man 
like  Blackburn  Tuckham,  now,  a  man  a  father  could  leave 
his  girl  to,  with  confidence  !  He  works  for  me  like  a  slave  ; 
I  can't  guess  why.  He  does  n't  look  as  if  he  were  at- 
tracted. There  's  a  man !  but,  no ;  harum-scarum  fellows 
take  their  fancy." 

"  Is  she  that  kind  of  young  lady  ?  "  said  Mr.  Austin. 

"  No  one  would  have  thought  so.  She  pretends  to  have 
opinions  upon  politics  now.     It 's  of  no  use  to  talk  of  it ! " 

But  Beauchamp  was  fully  indicated. 

Mr.  Austin  proposed  to  Cecilia  that  they  should  spend 
Easter  week  in  Rome. 

Her  face  lighted  and  clouded. 

"I  should  like  it,"  she  said,  negatively. 

"What 's  the  objection  ?  " 

"  None,  except  that  Mount  Laurels  in  Spring  has  grown 
dear  to  me ;  and  we  have  engagements  in  London.  I  am 
not  quick,  I  suppose,  at  new  projects.  I  have  ordered  the 
yacht  to  be  fitted  out  for  a  cruise  in  the  Mediterranean 
early  in  the  Summer.  There  is  an  objection,  I  am  sure  — 
yes  ;  papa  has  invited  Mr.  Tuckham  here  for  Easter." 

"We  could  carry  him  with  us." 

"  Yes,  but  I  should  wish  to  be  entirely  under  your  tute* 
lage  in  Eome." 

"  We  would  pair :  your  father  and  he  ;  you  and  I." 

"We  might  do  that.  But  Mr.  Tuckham  is  like  you, 
devoted  to  work ;  and,  unlike  you,  careless  of  Antiquities 
and  Art." 

"  He  is  a  hard  and  serious  worker,  and  therefore  the  best 
of  companions  for  a  holiday.  At  present  he  is  working  for 
the  colonel,  who  would  easily  persuade  him  to  give  over, 
and  come  with  us." 

"  He  certainly  does  love  papa,"  said  Cecilia. 

Mr.  Austin  dwelt  on  that  subject. 


A  LITTLE  PLOT  AGAIKST  CECILLl  425 

Cecilia  perceived  that  she  had  praised  Mr.  Tuckhain  for 
his  devotedness  to  her  father  without  recognizing  the  beauty 
of  nature  in  the  young  man  who  could  voluntarily  take 
service  under  the  elder  he  esteemed,  in  simple  admiration 
of  him.  Mr.  Austin  scarcely  said  so  much,  or  expected  her 
to  see  the  half  of  it,  but  she  wished  to  be  extremely  grate- 
ful, and  could  only  see  at  all  by  kindling  altogether. 
"He  does  himself  injustice  in  his  manner,"  said  Cecilia. 
"  That  has  become  somewhat  tempered,"  Mr.  Austin 
assured  her,  and  he  acknowledged  what  it  had  been  with  a 
smile  that  she  reciprocated. 

A  rough  man  of  rare  quality  civilizing  under  various 
influences,  and  half  ludicrous,  a  little  irritating,  wholly 
estimable,  has  frequently  won  the  benign  approbation  of 
the  sex.  In  addition,  this  rough  man  over  whom  she 
smiled  was  one  of  the  few  that  never  worried  her  concern- 
ing her  hand.  There  was  not  a  whisper  of  it  in  him.  He 
simply  loved  her  father. 

Cecilia  welcomed  him  to  Mount  Laurels  with  grateful 
gladness.  The  colonel  had  hastened  Mr.  Tuckham's  visit 
in  view  of  the  expedition  to  Kome,  and  they  discoursed  of 
it  at  the  luncheon  table.  Mr.  Tuckham  let  fall  that  he  had 
just  seen  Beauchamp. 

"  Did  he  thank  you  for  his  inheritance  ?  "  Colonel  Hal- 
kett  inquired. 

"Not  he  !  "  Tuckham  replied  jovially. 
Cecilia's  eyes,  quick  to  flash,  were  dropped. 
The  colonel  said :  "  I  suppose  you  told  him  nothing  of 
what  you  had  done  for  him  ? "  and  said  Tuckham :  "  Oh 
no :  what  anybody  else  would  have  done ; "  and  proceeded 
to  recount  that  he  had  called  at  Dr.  Shrapnel's  on  the  chance 
of  an  interview  with  his  friend  Lydiard,  who  used  generally 
to  be  hanging  about  the  cottage.  "  But  now  he  's  free  :  his 
lunatic  wife  is  dead,  and  I  'm  happy  to  think  I  was  mis- 
taken as  to  Miss  Denham.  Men  practising  literature  should 
marry  women  with  money.  The  poor  girl  changed  colour 
when  I  informed  her  he  had  been  released  for  upwards  of 
three  months.  The  old  Badical  's  not  the  thing  in  health. 
He  's  anxious  about  leaving  her  alone  in  the  world ;  he 
said  so  to  me.  Beauchamp 's  for  rigging  out  a  yacht  to 
give  him  a  sail.     It  seems  that  salt  water  did   him   some 


426  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

good  last  year.  They  're  both  of  them  rather  the  worse  for 
a  row  at  one  of  their  meetings  in  the  North  in  support  of 
that  public  nuisance,  the  democrat  and  atheist  Eoughleigh. 
The  Radical  doctor  lost  a  hat,  and  Beauchamp  almost  lost 
an  eye.  He  would  have  been  a  Nelson  of  politics,  if  he 
had  been  a  monops,  with  an  excuse  for  not  seeing.  It 's  a 
trifle  to  them;  part  of  their  education.  They  call  them- 
selves students.  Rome  will  be  capital,  Miss  Halkett. 
You're  an  Italian  scholar,  and  I  beg  to  be  accepted  as  a 
pupil." 

"  I  fear  we  have  postponed  the  expedition  too  long,"  said 
Cecilia.     She  could  have  sunk  with  languor. 

*^  Too  long  ?  "  cried  Colonel  Halkett,  mystified. 

"  Until  too  late,  I  mean,  papa.  Do  you  not  think,  Mr. 
Austin,  that  a  fortnight  in  Rome  is  too  short  a  time?" 

"  Not  if  we  make  it  a  month,  my  dear  Cecilia." 

"  Is  not  our  salt  air  better  for  you  ?  The  yacht  shall  be 
fitted  out." 

"  I  'm  a  poor  sailor  !  " 

."  Besides,  a  hasty  excursion  to  Italy  brings  one's  antici- 
pated regrets  at  the  farewell  too  close  to  the  pleasure  of 
beholding  it,  for  the  enjoyment  of  that  luxury  of  delight 
which  I  associate  with  the  name  of  Italy." 

"Why,  my  dear  child,"  said  her  father,  "you  were  all 
for  going,  the  other  day." 

"  I  do  not  remember  it,"  said  she.  "One  plans  agreeable 
schemes.  At  least  we  need  not  hurry  from  home  so  very 
soon  after  our  return.  We  have  been  travelling  incessantly. 
The  cottage  in  Wales  is  not  home.  It  is  hardly  fair  to 
Mount  Laurels  to  quit  it  without  observing  the  changes  of 
the  season  in  our  flowers  and  birds  here.  And  we  have 
visitors  coming.  Of  course,  papa,  I  would  not  chain  you  to 
England.  If  I  am  not  well  enough  to  accompany  you,  I  can 
go  to  Louise  for  a  few  weeks." 

Was  ever  transparency  so  threadbare  ?  Cecilia  shrank 
from  herself  in  contemplating  it  when  she  was  alone ;  and 
Colonel  Halkett  put  the  question  to  Mr.  Austin,  saying  to 
him  privately,  with  no  further  reserve :  "  It 's  that  fellow 
Beauchamp  in  the  neighbourhood;  I  'm  not  so  blind.  He  '11 
be  knocking  at  my  door,  and  I  can't  lock  him  out.  Austin, 
would  you  guess  it  was  my  girl  speaking  ?    I  never  in  my 


A   LITTLE  PLOT  AGAIKST  CECILIA  427 

life  had  such  an  example  of  intoxication  before  me.  I  'm 
perfectly  miserable  at  the  sight.  You  know  her ;  she  was 
the  proudest  girl  living.  Her  ideas  were  orderly  and 
sound ;  she  had  a  good  intellect.  Now  she  more  than  half 
defends  him  —  a  naval  officer  !  good  Lord !  —  for  getting  up 
in  a  public  room  to  announce  that  he  's  a  Kepublican,  and 
writing  heaps  of  mad  letters  to  justify  himself.  He's 
ruined  in  his  profession :  hopeless  !  He  can  never  get  a 
ship :  his  career 's  cut  short,  he 's  a  rudderless  boat.  A 
gentleman  drifting  to  Bedlam,  his  uncle  calls  him.  I  call 
his  treatment  of  Grancey  Lespel  anything  but  gentlemanly. 
This  is  the  sort  of  fellow  my  girl  worships !  What  can  I 
do  ?  I  can't  interdict  the  house  to  him :  it  would  only 
make  matters  worse.  Thank  God,  the  fellow  hangs  fire 
somehow,  and  does  n't  come  to  me.  I  expect  it  every  day, 
either  in  a  letter  or  the  man  in  person.  And  I  declare  to 
heaven  I'd  rather  be  threading  a  Khyber  Pass  with  my 
poor  old  friend  who  fell  to  a  shot  there." 

"  She  certainly  has  another  voice,"  Mr.  Austin  assented 
gravely. 

He  did  not  look  on  Beauchamp  as  the  best  of  possible 
husbands  for  Cecilia. 

"Let  her  see  that  you're  anxious,  Austin,"  said  the 
colonel.  "I'm  her  old  opponent  in  this  affair.  She  loves 
me,  but  she 's  accustomed  to  think  me  prejudiced :  you  she 
won't.     You  may  have  a  good  effect." 

"  Not  by  speaking." 

"  No,  no ;  no  assault :  not  a  word,  and  not  a  word  against 
him.  Lay  the  wind  to  catch  a  gossamer.  I've  had  my 
experience  of  blowing  cold,  and  trying  to  run  her  down. 
He  's  at  Shrapnel's.  He  '11  be  up  here  to-day,  and  I  have 
an  engagement  in  the  town.  Don't  quit  her  side.  Let  her 
fancy  you  are  interested  in  some  discussion  —  Eadicalism, 
if  you  like." 

Mr.  Austin  readily  undertook  to  mount  guard  over  her 
while  her  father  rode  into  Bevisham  on  business. 

The  enemy  appeared. 

Cecilia  saw  him,  and  could  not  step  to  meet  him  for 
trouble  of  heart.  It  was  bliss  to  know  that  he  lived  and 
was  near. 

A  transient  coldness  following  the  fit  of  ecstasy  enabled 


428 

her  to  swim  through  the  terrible  first  minutes  face  to  face 
with  him. 

He  folded  her  round  like  a  mist ;  but  it  grew  a  problem 
to  understand  why  Mr.  Austin  should  be  perpetually  at 
hand,  in  the  garden,  in  the  woods,  in  the  drawing-room, 
wheresoever  she  wakened  up  from  one  of  her  trances  to  see 
things  as  they  were. 

Yet  Beauchamp,  with  a  daring  and  cunning  at  which  her 
soul  exulted,  and  her  feminine  nature  trembled,  as  at  the 
divinely  terrible,  had  managed  to  convey  to  her  no  less  than 
if  they  had  been  alone  together. 

His  parting  words  were :  "  I  must  have  five  minutes  with 
your  father  to-morrow." 

How  had  she  behaved  ?  What  could  be  Seymour  Austin's 
idea  of  her  ? 

She  saw  the  blind  thing  that  she  was,  the  senseless 
thing,  the  shameless ;  and  vulture-like  in'  her  scorn  of  her- 
self, she  alighted  on  that  disgraced  Cecilia  and  picked  her 
to  pieces  hungrily.  It  was  clear :  Beauchamp  had  meant 
nothing  beyond  friendly  civility :  it  was  only  her  abject 
greediness  pecking  at  crumbs.  No !  he  loved  her.  Could  a 
woman's  heart  be  mistaken  ?  She  melted  and  wept,  thank- 
ing him :  she  offered  him  her  remnant  of  pride,  pitiful  to 
behold. 

And  still  she  asked  herself  betweenwhiles  whether  it 
could  be  true  of  an  English  lady  of  our  day,  that  she,  the 
fairest  stature  under  sun,  was  ever  knowingly  twisted  to 
this  convulsion.  She  seemed  to  look  forth  from  a  barred 
window  on  flower,  and  field,  and  hill.  Quietness  existed  as 
a  vision.  Was  it  impossible  to  embrace  it?  How  pass 
into  it  ?  By  surrendering  herself  to  the  flames,  like  a  soul 
unto  death !  For  why,  if  they  were  overpowering,  attempt 
to  resist  them  ?  It  flattered  her  to  imagine  that  she  had 
been  resisting  them  in  their  present  burning  might  ever 
since  her  lover  stepped  on  the  Esperanza^s  deck  at  the 
mouth  of  Otley  Eiver.  How  foolish,  seeing  that  they  are 
fatal !  A  thrill  of  satisfaction  swept  her  in  reflecting  that 
her  ability  to  reason  was  thus  active.  And  she  was  in- 
stantly rewarded  for  surrendering  ;  pain  fled,  to  prove  her 
reasoning  good ;  the  flames  devoured  her  gently :  they  cared 
not  to  torture  so  long  as  they  had  her  to  themselves. 


A  LITTLE  PLOT  AGAINST  CECILIA  429 

At  night,  candle  in  hand,  on  the  corridor,  her  father  told 
her  he  had  come  across  Grancey  Lespel  in  Bevisham,  and 
heard  what  he  had  not  quite  relished  of  the  Countess  of 
Romfrey.  The  glittering  of  Cecilia's  eyes  frightened  him. 
Taking  her  for  the  moment  to  know  almost  as  much  as  he, 
the  colonel  doubted  the  weight  his  communication  would 
have  on  her ,  he  talked  obscurely  of  a  scandalous  affair  at 
Lord  Romfrey's  house  in  town,  and  Beauchamp  and  that 
Frenchwoman.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  Mrs.  Grancey  will  be 
here  to-morrow." 

"  So  will  Nevil,  papa,"  said  Cecilia. 

"Ah!  he's  coming,  yes;  well!"  the  colonel  puffed. 
"  Well,  I  shall  see  him,  of  course,  but  I  ...  I  can  only 
say  that  if  his  oath 's  worth  having,  I  .  .  .  and  I  think 
you  too,  my  dear,  if  you  .  .  .  but  it 's  no  use  anticipating. 
I  shall  stand  out  for  your  honour  and  happiness.  There, 
your  cheeks  are  flushed.     Go  and  sleep." 

Some  idle  tale !  Cecilia  murmured  to  herself  a  dozen 
times,  undisturbed  by  the  recurrence  of  it.  Nevil  was 
coming  to  speak  to  her  father  to-morrow  !  Adieu  to  doubt 
and  division  !  Happy  to-morrow !  and  dear  Mount  Laurels ! 
The  primroses  were  still  fair  in  the  woods :  and  soon  the 
cowslips  would  come,  and  the  nightingale ;  she  lay  lapt  in 
images  of  everything  innocently  pleasing  to  Nevil.  Soon 
the  Esperanza  would  be  spreading  wings.  She  revelled  in 
a  picture  of  the  yacht  on  a  tumbling  Mediterranean  Sea, 
meditating  on  the  two  specks  near  the  tiller,  —  who  were 
blissful  human  creatures,  blest  by  heaven  and  in  themselves 
—  with  luxurious  Olympian  benevolence. 

For  all  that,  she  awoke,  starting  up  in  the  first  cold  circle 
of  twilight,  her  heart  in  violent  action.  She  had  dreamed 
that  the  vessel  was  wrecked.  "  I  did  not  think  myself  so 
cowardly,"  she  said  aloud,  pressing  her  side:  and  then, 
with  the  dream  in  her  eyes,  she  gasped  :  "  It  would  be 
together ! " 

Strangely  chilled,  she  tried  to  recover  some  fallen  load. 
The  birds  of  the  dawn  twittered,  chirped,  dived  aslant  her 
window,  fluttered  back.  Instead  of  a  fallen  load,  she  fancied 
presently  that  it  was  an  expectation  she  was  desiring  to 
realize :  but  what  ?  What  could  be  expected  at  that  hour  ? 
She  quitted  her  bed,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  room 


430  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

beneatli  a  gold-starred  ceiling.  Her  expectation,  she  re- 
solved to  think,  was  of  a  splendid  day  of  the  young  Spring 
at  Mount  Laurels  —  a  day  to  praise  to  Nevil. 

She  raised  her  window-blind  at  a  window  letting  in  sweet 
air,  to  gather  indications  of  promising  weather.  Her  lover 
stood  on  the  grass-plot  among  the  flower-beds  below,  looking 
up,  as  though  it  had  been  his  expectation  to  see  her  which 
had  drawn  her  to  gaze  out  with  an  idea  of  some  expectation 
of  her  own.  So  visionary  was  his  figure  in  the  grey  soli- 
tariness of  the  moveless  morning  that  she  stared  at  the 
apparition,  scarce  putting  faith  in  him  as  man,  until  he 
kissed  his  hand  to  her,  and  had  softly  called  her  name. 

Impulsively  she  waved  a  hand  from  her  lips. 

Now  there  was  no  retreat  for  either  of  them ! 

She  awoke  to  this  conviction  after  a  flight  of  blushes  that 
burnt  her  thoughts  to  ashes  as  they  sprang.  Thoughts  born 
blushing,  all  of  the  crimson  colour,  a  rose-garden,  succeeded, 
and  corresponding  with  their  speed  her  feet  paced  the  room, 
both  slender  hands  crossed  at  her  throat  under  an  uplifted 
chin,  and  the  curves  of  her  dark  eyelashes  dropped  as  in  a 
swoon. 

"  He  loves  me !  "  The  attestation  of  it  had  been  visible. 
"  No  one  but  me  ! "     Was  that  so  evident  ? 

Her  father  picked  up  silly  stories  of  him  —  a  man  who 
made  enemies  recklessly ! 

Cecilia  was  petrified  by  a  gentle  tapping  at  her  door. 
Her  father  called  to  her,  and  she  threw  on  her  dressing- 
gown,  and  opened  the  door. 

The  colonel  was  in  his  riding-suit. 

"  I  have  n't  slept  a  wink,  and  I  find  it 's  the  same  with 
you,"  he  said,  paining  her  with  his  distressed  kind  eyes. 
"I  ought  not  to  have  hinted  anything  last  night  without 
proofs.    Austin 's  as  unhappy  as  I  am." 

^'  At  what,  my  dear  papa,  at  what  ?  "  cried  Cecilia. 

"  I  ride  over  to  Steynham  this  morning,  and  I  shall  bring 
you  proofs,  my  poor  child,  proofs.  That  foreign  tangle  of 
his  .  .  ." 

"You  speak  of  Nevil,  papa  ?" 

"It's  a  common  scandal  over  London.  That  French- 
woman was  found  at  Lord  Romfrey's  house ;  Lady  Romfrey 
cloaked  it.    I  believe  the  woman  would  swear  black  's  white 


A  LITTLE  PLOT   AGAINST  CECILIA  431 

to  make  Nevil  Beauchamp  appear  an  angel;  and  he's  a 
desperately  cunning  hand  with  women.    You  doubt  that." 

She  had  shuddered  slightly. 

"You  won't  doubt  if  I  bring  you  proofs.  Till  I  come 
back  from  Steynham,  I  ask  you  not  to  see  him  alone :  not  to 
go  out  to  him." 

The  colonel  glanced  at  her  windows. 

Cecilia  submitted  to  the  request,  out  of  breath,  consenting 
to  feel  like  a  tutored  girl,  that  she  might  conceal  her  guilty 
knowledge  of  what  was  to  be  seen  through  the  windows. 

"  JSTow  I  'm  oif,"  said  he,  and  kissed  her. 

"If  you  would 'accept  Nevil's  word!  "  she  murmured. 

"  Not  where  women  are  concerned  ! " 

He  left  her  with  this  remark,  which  found  no  jealous 
response  in  her  heart,  yet  ranged  over  certain  dispersed 
inflammable  grains,  like  a  match  applied  to  damp  powder ; 
again  and  again  running  in  little  leaps  of  harmless  fire, 
keeping  her  alive  to  its  existence,  and  surprising  her  that  it 
should  not  have  been  extinguished. 

Beauchamp  presented  himself  rather  late  in  the  afternoon, 
when  Mr.  Austin  and  Blackburn  Tuckham  were  sipping  tea 
in  Cecilia's  boudoir  with  that  lady,  and  a  cousin  of  her  sex, 
by  whom  she  was  led  to  notice  a  faint  discoloration  over  one 
of  his  eyes,  that  was,  considering  whence  it  came,  repulsive 
to  compassion.  A  blow  at  a  Radical  meeting  !  He  spoke  of 
Dr.  Shrapnel  to  Tuckham,  and  assuredly  could  not  complain 
that  the  latter  was  unsympathetic  in  regard  to  the  old  man's 
health,  though  when  he  said,  "  Poor  old  man !  he  fears  he 
will  die!"  Tuckham  rejoined,  "He  had  better  make  his 
peace." 

"  He  fears  he  will  die,  because  of  his  leaving  Miss  Denham 
unprotected,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Well,  she 's  a  good-looking  girl :  he  '11  be  able  to  leave 
her  something,  and  he  might  easily  get  her  married,  I  should 
think,"  said  Tuckham. 

"He's  not  satisfied  with  handing  her  to  any  kind  of 
man." 

"If  the  choice  is  to  be  among  Radicals  and  infidels,  I 
don't  wonder.     He  has  come  to  one  of  the  tests." 

Cecilia  heard  Beauchamp  speaking  of  a  newspaper.  A 
great  Radical  Journal,  unmatched  in  sincerity,  superior  in 


432  *  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

ability,  soon  to  be  equal  in  power,  to  the  leader  and  exem- 
plar of  the  lucre-Press,  would  some  day  see  the  light. 

"  You'll  want  money  for  that,''  said  Tuckham. 

"  I  know,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Are  you  prepared  to  stand  forty  or  fifty  thousand  a 
year  ?  " 

"  It  need  not  be  half  so  much." 

"Counting  the  libels,  I  rate  the  outlay  rather  low." 

"  Yes,  lawyers,  judges,  and  juries  of  tradesmen,  dealing 
justice  to  a  Radical  print ! " 

Tuckham  brushed  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and  ahemed. 
"  It 's  to  be  a  penny  journal  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  penny.     I  'd  make  it  a  farthing  — " 

"  Pay  to  have  it  read  ?  " 

"Willingly." 

Tuckham  did  some  mental  arithmetic,  quaintly,  with 
rapidly  blinking  eyelids  and  open  mouth.  "  You  may  count 
it  at  the  cost  of  two  paying  mines,"  he  said  firmly.  "  That 
is,  if  it 's  to  be  a  consistently  Eadical  Journal,  at  law  with 
everybody  all  round  the  year.  And  by  the  time  it  has  won 
a  reputation,  it  will  be  undermined  by  a  radicaller  Radical 
Journal.  That 's  how  we  've  lowered  the  country  to  this 
level.  That 's  an  Inferno  of  Circles,  down  to  the  ultimate 
mire.     And  what  on  earth  are  you  contending  for  ?  " 

"  Freedom  of  thought,  for  one  thing." 

"  We  have  quite  enough  free-thinking." 

"  There  's  not  enough  if  there 's  not  perfect  freedom." 

"Dangerous  !  "  quoth  Mr.  Austin. 

"  But  it  *s  that  danger  which  makes  men,  sir ;  and  it 's  fear 
of  the  danger  that  makes  our  modern  Englishman." 

"  Oh !  Oh ! "  cried  Tuckham  in  the  voice  of  a  Parliament- 
ary Opposition.  "  Well,  you  start  your  paper,  we  '11  assume 
it :  what  class  of  men  will  you  get  to  write  ?  " 

"  I  shall  get  good  men  for  the  hire." 

"'  You  won't  get  the  best  men ;  you  may  catch  a  clever 
youngster  or  two,  and  an  old  rogue  of  talent ;  you  won't  get 
men  of  weight.  They  're  prejudiced,  I  dare  say.  The 
Journals  which  are  commercial  speculations  give  us  a  guar- 
antee that  they  mean  to  be  respectable ;  they  must,  if  they 
wouldn't  collapse.  That's  why  the  best  men  consent  to 
write  for  them," 


A  LITTLE  PLOT   AGATN^ST   CECILIA  433 

"Money  will  do  it,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Mr.  Austin  disagreed  with  that  observation. 

"  Some  patriotic  spirit,  I  may  hope,  sir." 

Mr.  Austin  shook  his  head.  "  We  put  different  construc- 
tions upon  patriotism." 

"  Besides  —  fiddle  !  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  Tuckham  in 
the  mildest  interjections  he  could  summon  for  a  vent  in 
society  to  his  offended  common  sense  ;  "  the  better  your 
men  the  worse  your  mark.  You  're  not  dealing  with  an 
intelligent  people." 

"  There 's  the  old  charge  against  the  people." 

•^But  they're  not.  You  can  madden,  you  can't  elevate 
them  by  writing  and  writing.  Defend  us  from  the  unedu- 
cated English  !  The  common  English  are  doltish  ;  except 
in  the  North,  where  you  won't  do  much  with  them.  Com- 
pare them  with  the  Yankees  for  shrewdness,  the  Spaniards 
for  sobriety,  the  French  for  ingenuity,  the  Germans  for  en- 
lightenment, the  Italians  in  the  Arts ;  yes,  the  Russians  for 
good-humour  and  obedience  —  where  are  they  ?  They  're 
only  worth  something  when  they  're  led.  They  fight  well ; 
there  's  good  stuff  in  them." 

"  I  've  heard  all  that  before,"  returned  Beauchamp,  un- 
ruffled. "  You  don't  know  them.  I  mean  to  educate  them 
by  giving  them  an  interest  in  their  country.  At  present 
they  have  next  to  none.  Our  governing  class  is  decidedly 
unintelligent,  in  my  opinion  brutish,  for  it 's  indifferent. 
My  paper  shall  render  your  traders  justice  for  what  they  do, 
and  justice  for  what  they  don't  do." 

"My  traders,  as  you  call  them,  are  the  soundest  founda- 
tion for  a  civilized  state  that  the  world  has  yet  seen." 

"  What  is  your  paper  to  be  called  ?  "  said  Cecilia. 

"The  Dawn,"  Beauchamp  answered. 

She  blushed  fiery  red,  and  turned  the  leaves  of  a  portfolio 
of  drawings. 

"  The  Dawn  ! "  ejaculated  Tuckham.  "  The  grey-eyed, 
or  the  red?  Extraordinary  name  for  a  paper,  upon  my 
word ! " 

"A  paper  that  doesn't  devote  half  its  columns  to  the 
vices  of  the  rich  —  to  money-getting,  spending  and  betting 
—  will  be  an  extraordinary  paper." 

"  I  have  it  before  me  now  !  —  two  doses  of  flattery  to  cue 


434  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEEB 

of  the  whip.  No,  no ;  you  haven't  hit  the  disease.  We 
want  union,  not  division.  Turn  your  mind  to  being  a 
moralist,  instead  of  a  politician." 

"  The  distinction  should  n't  exist !  " 

"  Only  it  does  !  " 

Mrs.  Grancey  Lespel's  entrance  diverted  their  dialogue 
from  a  theme  wearisome  to  Cecilia,  for  Beauchamp  shone 
but  darkly  in  it,  and  Mr.  Austin  did  not  join  in  it.  Mrs. 
Grancey  touched  Beauchamp's  fingers.  "  Still  political  ?  " 
she  said.  ^'You  have  been  seen  about  London  with  a 
French  officer  in  uniform." 

"  It  was  M.  le  comte  de  Croisnel,  a  very  old  friend  and 
comrade  of  mine,"  Beauchamp  replied. 

"Why  do  those  Frenchmen  everlastingly  wear  their 
uniforms  ?  —  tell  me  !    Don't  you  think  it  detestable  style  ?  " 

"He  came  over  in  a  hurry." 

*'  Now,  don't  be  huffed.  I  know  you,  for  defending  your 
friends,  Captain  Beauchamp!  Did  he  not  come  over  with 
ladies?" 

"  With  relatives,  yes." 

"Relatives  of  course.  But  when  British  officers  travel 
with  ladies,  relatives  or  other,  they  prefer  the  simplicity  of 
mufti,  and  so  do  I,  as  a  question  of  taste,  I  must  say." 

"It  was  quite  by  misadventure  that  M.  de  Croisnel 
chanced  to  come  in  his  uniform." 

"  Ah !  I  know  you,  for  defending  your  friends.  Captain 
Beauchamp.  He  was  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  change  his 
uniform  before  he  started,  or  en  route  ?  " 

"  So  it  happened." 

Mrs.  Grancey  let  a  lingering  eye  dwell  maliciously  on 
Beauchamp,  who  said,  to  shift  the  burden  of  it :  "  The 
French  are  not  so  jealous  of  military  uniforms  as  we  are. 
M.  de  Croisnel  lost  his  portmanteau." 

"  Ah  !  lost  it !  Then  of  course  he  is  excusable,  except  to 
the  naked  eye.  Dear  me !  you  have  had  a  bruise  on  yours. 
Was  Monsieur  votre  ami  in  the  Italian  campaign  ?  " 

"  No,  poor  fellow,  he  was  not.  He  is  not  an  Imperialist ; 
he  had  to  remain  in  garrison." 

"He  wore  a  multitude  of  medals,  I  have  been  told.  — A 
cup  of  tea,  Cecilia.  —  And  how  long  did  he  stay  in  England 
with  his  relatives  ?  " 


A  LITTLE  PLOT  AGAINST  CECILIA  435 

"  Two  days." 

"  Only  two  days !  A  very  short  visit  indeed  —  singularly 
short.  Somebody  informed  me  of  their  having  been  seen  at 
Eomfrey  Castle,  which  cannot  have  been  true." 

She  turned  her  eyes  from  Beauchamp  silent  to  Cecilia's 
hand  on  the  teapot.  "  Half  a  cup,"  she  said  mildly,  to 
spare  the  poor  hand  its  betrayal  of  nervousness,  and  re- 
lapsed from  her  air  of  mistress  of  the  situation  to  chatter 
to  Mr.  Austin. 

Beauchamp  continued  silent.  He  took  up  a  book,  and 
presently  a  pencil  from  his  pocket,  then  talked  of  the  book 
to  Cecilia's  cousin;  and  leaving  a  paper-cutter  between  the 
leaves,  he  looked  at  Cecilia  and  laid  the  book  down. 

She  proceeded  to  conduct  Mrs,  Grancey  Lespel  to  her 
room. 

"  I  do  admire  Captain  Beauchamp's  cleverness ;  he  is  as 
good  as  a  French  romance ! "  Mrs.  Grancey  exclaimed  on 
the  stairs.  "  He  fibs  charmingly.  I  could  not  help  draw- 
ing him  out.  Two  days  !  Why,  my  dear,  his  French 
party  were  a  fortnight  in  the  country.  It  was  the  mar- 
quise, you  know  —  the  old  affair ;  and  one  may  say  he 's  a 
constant  man." 

"  I  have  not  heard  Captain  Beauchamp's  cleverness  much 
praised,"  said  Cecilia.    "  This  is  your  room,  Mrs.  Grancey." 

"  Stay  with  me  a  moment.  It  is  the  room  I  like.  Are 
we  to  have  him  at  dinner  ?  " 

Cecilia  did  not  suppose  that  Captain  Beauchamp  would 
remain  to  dine.  Feeling  herself  in  the  clutches  of  a  gossip, 
she  would  fain  have  gone. 

"I  am  just  one  bit  glad  of  it,  though  I  can't  dislike  him 
personally,"  said  Mrs.  Grancey,  detaining  her  and  beginning 
to  whisper.  '^It  was  really  too  bad.  There  was, a  French 
party  at  the  end,  but  there  was  only  one  at  the  commence- 
ment. The  brother  was  got  over  for  a  curtain,  before  the 
husband  arrived  in  pursuit.  They  say  the  trick  Captain 
Beauchamp  played  his  cousin  Cecil,  to  get  him  out  of  the 
house  when  he  had  made  a  discovery,  was  monstrous  — 
fiendishly  cunning.  However,  Lady  Romfrey,  as  that 
woman  appears  to  be  at  last,  covered  it  all.  You  know  she 
has  one  of  those  passions  for  Captain  Beauchamp  which 
completely  blind  women  to  right  aud  wrong.     He  is  her 


436  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

saint,  let  him  sin  ever  so !  The  story 's  in  everybody's 
mouth.  By  the  way,  Palmet  saw  her.  He  describes  her 
pale  as  marble,  with  dark  long  eyes,  the  most  innocent  look 
in  the  world,  and  a  walk,  the  absurd  fellow  says,  like  a 
statue  set  gliding.  No  doubt  Frenchwomen  do  walk  well. 
He  says  her  eyes  are  terrible  traitors  ;  I  need  not  quote 
Palmet.  The  sort  of  eyes  that  would  look  fondly  on  a 
stone,  you  know.  What  her  reputation  is  in  France  I  have 
only  indistinctly  heard.  She  has  one  in  England  by  this 
time,  I  can  assure  you.  She  found  her  match  in  Captain 
Beauchamp  for  boldness.  Where  any  other  couple  would 
have  seen  danger,  they  saw  safety ;  and  they  contrived  to 
accomplish  it,  according  to  those  horrid  talebearers.  You 
have  plenty  of  time  to  dress,  my  dear;  I  have  an  immense 
deal  to  talk  about.  There  are  half-a-dozen  scandals  in 
London  already,  and  you  ought  to  know  them,  or  you  will 
be  behind  the  tittle-tattle  when  you  go  to  town;  and  I 
remember,  as  a  girl,  I  knew  nothing  so  excruciating  as  to 
hear  blanks,  dashes,  initials,  and  half  words,  without  the 
key.  Nothing  makes  a  girl  look  so  silly  and  unpalatable. 
Naturally,  the  reason  why  Captain  Beauchamp  is  more 
talked  about  than  the  rest  is  the  politics.  Your  grand  re- 
former should  be  careful.  Doubly  heterodox  will  not  do  ! 
It  makes  him  interesting  to  women,  if  you  like,  but  he 
won't  soon  hear  the  last  of  it,  if  he  is  for  a  public  career. 
Grancey  literally  crowed  at  the  story.  And  the  wonderful 
part  of  it  is,  that  Captain  Beauchamp  refused  to  be  present 
at  the  earl's  first  ceremonial  dinner  in  honour  of  his  count- 
ess. Now,  that,  we  all  think,  was  particularly  ungrateful : 
now,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  If  the  countess  —  if  ingratitude  had  anything  to  do 
with  it,"  said  Cecilia. 

She  escaped  to  her  room  and  dressed  impatiently. 

Her  boudoir  was  empty  :  Beauchamp  had  departed.  She 
recollected  his  look  at  her,  and  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  the  book  he  had  been  hastily  scanning,  and  had  conde- 
scended to  approve  of.  On  the  two  pages  where  the  paper- 
cutter  was  fixed  she  perceived  small  pencil  dots  under 
certain  words.  Read  consecutively,  with  a  participle  ter- 
mination struck  out  to  convey  his  meaning,  they  formed 
the  pathetically  ungrammatical  line,  — 


A  LITTLE  PLOT   AGAINST  CECILIA  437 

"  Hear :  none :  but :  accused :  false." 

Treble  dots  were  under  the  word  '*  to-morrow."  He  had 
scored  the  margin  of  the  sentences  containing  his  dotted 
words,  as  if  in  admiration  of  their  peculiar  wisdom. 

She  thought  it  piteous  that  he  should  be  reduced  to  such 
means  of  communication.  The  next  instant  Cecilia  was 
shrinking  from  the  adept  intriguer  —  French-taught  ^ 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  her  cousin  remarked :  "  Cap- 
tain Beauchamp  must  see  merit  in  things  undiscoverable 
by  my  poor  faculties.  I  will  show  you  a  book  he  has 
marked." 

"  Did  you  see  it  ?  I  was  curious  to  examine  it,"  inter- 
posed Cecilia ;  "  and  I  am  as  much  at  a  loss  as  you  to  under- 
stand what  could  have  attracted  him.     One  sentence  .  .  ." 

"  About  the  sheikh  in  the  stables,  where  he  accused  the 
pretended  physician  ?     Yes,  what  was  there  in  that  ?  " 

"  Wliere  is  the  book  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Grancey. 

"Not  here,  I  think."  Cecilia  glanced  at  the  drawing- 
room  book-table,  and  then  at  Mr.  Austin,  the  victim  of  an 
unhappy  love  in  his  youth,  and  unhappy  about  her,  as  her 
father  had  said.  Seymour  Austin  was  not  one  to  spread  the 
contagion  of  intrigue  !  She  felt  herself  caught  by  it,  even 
melting  to  feel  enamoured  of  herself  in  consequence,  though 
not  loving  Beauchamp  the  more. 

"  This  newspaper,  if  it  ^s  not  merely  an  airy  project,  will 
be  ruination,"  said  Tuckham.  "  The  fact  is,  Beauchamp  has 
no  lend  m  him.  He  can't  meet  a  man  without  trying  a 
wrestle,  and  as  long  as  he  keeps  his  stiffness,  he  believes  he 
has  won.  I  Ve  heard  an  oculist  say  that  the  eye  that  does  n*t 
blink  ends  in  blindness,  and  he  who  won't  bend  breaks.  It 's 
a  pity,  for  ^e  's  a  fine  fellow.  A  Radical  daily  Journal  of 
Shrapnel's  colour,  to  educate  the  people  by  giving  them  an 
interest  in  the  country  !  Goodness,  what  a  delusion  !  and 
what  a  waste  of  money !  He  '11  not  be  able  to  carry  it  on  a 
couple  of  years.     And  there  goes  his  eighty  thousand  !  " 

Cecilia's  heart  beat  fast.  She  had  no  defined  cause  for 
its  excitement. 

Colonel  Halkett  returned  to  Mount  Laurels  close  upon 
midnight,  very  tired,  coughing  and  complaining  of  the  bitter 
blowing  East.  His  guests  shook  hands  with  him,  and  went 
to  bed. 


438  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREEE 

"  I  think  I  '11  follow  their  example,"  he  said  to  Cecilia, 
after  drinking  a  tumbler  of  mulled  wine. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  tell  me,  dear  papa  ?  ^'  said  she, 
caressing  him  timidly. 

"A  confirmation  of  the  whole  story  from  Lord  Romfrey 
in  person  —  that's  all.  He  says  Beauchamp's  mad.  I  be- 
gin to  believe  it.  You  must  use  your  judgement.  I  sup- 
pose I  must  not  expect  you  to  consider  me.  You  might 
open  your  heart  to  Austin.  As  to  my  consent,  knowing 
what  I  do,  you  will  have  to  tear  it  out  of  me.  Here  's  a 
country  perfectly  contented,  and  that  fellow  at  work  dig- 
ging up  grievances  to  persuade  the  people  they  're  oppressed 
by  us.  Why  should  I  talk  of  it  ?  He  can't  do  much  harm  ; 
unless  he  has  money  —  money !  Romfrey  says  he  means  to 
start  a  furious  paper.  He  '11  make  a  bonfire  of  himself.  I 
can't  stand  by  and  see  you  in  it  too.  I  may  die  ;  I  may  be 
spared  the  sight.'' 

Cecilia  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck.     "  Oh  !  papa." 

"I  don't  want  to  make  him  out  worse  than  he  is,  my 
dear.  I  own  to  his  gallantry  —  in  the  French  sense  as 
well  as  the  English,  it  seems!  It's  natural  that  Romfrey 
should  excuse  his  wife.  She  's  another  of  the  women  who 
are  crazy  about  Nevil  Beauchamp.  She  spoke  to  me  of 
the  *  pleasant  visit  of  her  French  friends,'  and  would  have 
enlarged  on  it,  but  Romfrey  stopped  her.  By  the  way,  he 
proposes  Captain  Baskelett  for  you,  and  we  're  to  look  for 
Baskelett's  coming  here,  backed  by  his  uncle.  There 's  no 
end  to  it ;  there  never  will  be  till  you  're  married :  and  no 
peace  for  me !  I  hope  I  sha'n't  find  myself  with  a  cold 
to-morrow." 

The  colonel  coughed,  and  perhaps  exaggerated  the  pre- 
monitory symptoms  of  a  cold. 

"  Italy,  papa,  would  do  you  good,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  It  might,"  said  he. 

"  If  we  go  immediately,  papa ;  to-morrow,  early  in  the 
morning,  before  there  is  a  chance  of  any  visitors  coming  to 
the  house." 

"  From  Bevisham  ?" 

"From  Steynham.  I  cannot  endure  a  second  persecu- 
tion." 

"  But  you  have  a  world  of  packing,  my  dear." 


AS  IT  MIGHT   HAVE  BEEN  FOEESEEN  489 

"  An  hour  before  breakfast  will  be  sufficient  for  me." 

"  In  that  case,  we  might  be  off  early,  as  you  say,  and  have 
part  of  the  Easter  week  in  Rome." 

"  Mr.  Austin  wishes  it  greatly,  papa,  though  he  has  not 
mentioned  it." 

"  Austin,  my  darling  girl,  is  not  one  of  your  impatient 
men  who  burst  with  everything  they  have  in  their  heads  or 
their  hearts." 

"  Oh !  but  I  know  him  so  well,"  said  Cecilia,  conjuring 
up  that  innocent  enthusiasm  of  hers  for  Mr.  Austin  as  an 
antidote  to  her  sharp  suffering.  The  next  minute  she 
looked  on  her  father  as  the  key  of  an  enigma  concerning 
Seymour  Austin,  whom,  she  imagined,  possibly  she  had  not 
hitherto  known  at  all.  Her  curiosity  to  pierce  it  faded. 
She  and  her  maid  were  packing  through  the  night.  At 
dawn  she  requested  her  maid  to  lift  the  window-blind  and 
give  her  an  opinion  of  the  weather.  "  Grey,  Miss,"  the 
maid  reported.  It  signified  to  Cecilia:  no  one  roaming 
outside. 

The  step  she  was  taking  was  a  desperate  attempt  at  a 
cure ;  and  she  commenced  it,  though  sorely  wounded,  with 
pity  for  NeviPs  disappointment,  and  a  singularly  clear-eyed 
perception  of  his  aims  and  motives.  —  "I  am  rich,  and  he 
wants  riches  ;  he  likes  me,  and  he  reads  my  weakness."  — 
Jealousy  shook  her  by  fits,  but  she  had  no  right  to  be  jeal- 
ous, nor  any  right  to  reproach  him.  Her  task  was  to  climb 
back  to  those  heavenly  heights  she  sat  on  before  he  dia 
tracted  her  and  drew  her  down. 

Beauchamp  came  to  a  vacated  house  that  day. 


? 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

AS    IT   MIGHT   HAVE    BEEN   FORESEEN 

It  was  in  Italy  that  Cecilia's  maiden  dreams  of  life  had 
opened.  She  hoped  to  recover  them  in  Italy,  and  the  calm 
security  of  a  mind  untainted.  Italy  was  to  be  her  reviving 
air. 


440 

While  this  idea  of  a  specific  for  her  malady  endured  — 
travelling  at  speed  to  the  ridges  of  the  Italian  frontier, 
across  France  —  she  simply  remembered  Nevil :  he  was  dis- 
tant ;  he  had  no  place  in  the  storied  landscape,  among  the 
images  of  Art  and  the  names  of  patient  great  men  who 
bear,  as  they  bestow,  an  atmosphere  other  than  earth's  for 
those  adoring  them.  If  at  night,  in  her  sleep,  he  was  a 
memory  that  conducted  her  through  scenes  which  were 
lightnings,  the  cool  swift  morning  of  her  flight  released 
her.  France,  too,  her  rival !  —  the  land  of  France,  personi- 
fied by  her  instinctively,  though  she  had  no  vivid  imagina- 
tive gift,  did  not  wound  her  with  a  poisoned  dart.  —  "  She 
knew  him  first:  she  was  his  first  love."  The  Alps,  and  the 
sense  of  having  Italy  below  them,  renewed  Cecilia's  lofty- 
perching  youth.  Then  —  I  am  in  Italy !  she  sighed  with 
rapture.    The  wine  of  delight  and  oblivion  was  at  her  lips. 

But  thirst  is  not  enjoyment,  and  a  satiated  thirst  that  we 
insist  on  over-satisfying  to  drown  the  recollection  of  past 
anguish,  is  baneful  to  the  soul.  In  Eome  Cecilia's  vision  of 
her  track  to  Eome  was  of  a  run  of  fire  over  a  heath.  She 
could  scarcely  feel  common  pleasure  in  Eome.  It  seemed 
burnt  out. 

Flung  back  on  herself,  she  was  condemned  to  undergo 
the  bitter  torment  she  had  flown  from :  jealous  love,  and 
reproachful ;  and  a  shame  in  it  like  nothing  she  had  yet 
experienced.  Previous  pains  were  but  Summer  lightnings, 
passing  shadows.  She  could  have  believed  in  sorcery  :  — 
the  man  had  eaten  her  heart ! 

A  disposition  to  mocking  humour,  foreign  to  her  nature, 
gave  her  the  notion  of  being  off  her  feet,  in  the  claws  of  a 
fabulous  bird.  It  served  to  veil  her  dulness.  An  ultra- 
English  family  in  Eome,  composed,  shocking  to  relate,  of  a 
baronet  banker  and  his  wife,  two  faint-faced  girls,  and  a 
young  gentleman  of  our  country,  once  perhaps  a  light-limbed 
boy,  chose  to  be  followed  by  their  footman  in  the  melan- 
choly pomp  of  state  livery.  Wherever  she  encountered  them 
Cecilia  talked  Nevil  Beauchamp.  Even  Mr.  Tuckham  per- 
ceived it.  She  was  extremely  uncharitable  :  she  extended 
her  ungenerous  criticism  to  the  institution  of  the  footman : 
England,  and  the  English,  were  lashed. 

"  Those  people  are  caricatures,"  Tuckham  said,  in  apology 


AS   IT  MIGHT   HAVE  BEEN   FORESEEN  441 

for  poor  England  burlesqued  abroad.  "You  must  not  gen- 
eralize on  them.  Footmen  are  footmen  all  the  world  over. 
The  cardinals  have  a  fine  set  of  footmen." 

"They  are  at  home.  Those  English  sow  contempt  of  us 
all  over  Europe.  We  cannot  but  be  despised.  One  comes 
abroad  foredoomed  to  share  the  sentiment.  This  is  your 
middle-class !  What  society  can  they  move  in,  that  sanc- 
tions a  vulgarity  so  perplexing?  They  have  the  air  of 
ornaments  on  a  cottager^s  parlour  mantelpiece." 

Tuckham  laughed.     "Something  of  that,"  he  said. 

"Evidently  they  seek  distinction,  and  they  have  it,  of 
that  kind,"  she  continued.  "  It  is  not  wonderful  that  we 
have  so  much  satirical  writing  in  England,  with  such  objects 
of  satire.  It  may  be  as  little  wonderful  that  the  satire  has 
no  effect.  Immense  wealth  and  native  obtuseness  combine 
to  disfigure  us  with  this  aspect  of  over-ripeness,  not  to  say 
monstrosity.  I  fall  in  love  with  the  poor,  and  think  they 
have  a  cause  to  be  pleaded,  when  I  look  at  those  people. 
We  scoff  at  the  vanity  of  the  French,  but  it  is  a  graceful 
vanity  ;  pardonable  compared  with  ours." 

"I've  read  all  that  a  hundred  times,"  quoth  Tuckham, 
bluntly. 

"  So  have  I.  I  speak  of  it  because  I  see  it.  We  scoff  at 
the  simplicity  of  the  Germans." 

"The  Germans  live  in  simple  fashion,  because  they're 
poor.  French  vanity  's  pretty  and  amusing.  I  don't  know 
whether  it 's  deep  in  them,  for  I  doubt  their  depth ;  but  I 
know  it 's  in  their  joints.  The  first  spring  of  a  Frenchman 
comes  of  vanity.  That  you  can't  say  of  the  English. 
Peace  to  all  !  but  I  abhor  cosmopolitanism.  Ko  man  has  a 
firm  foothold  who  pretends  to  it.  None  despises  the  Eng- 
lish in  reality.  Don't  be  misled,  Miss  Halkett.  We're 
solid  :  that  is  the  main  point.  The  world  feels  our  power, 
and  has  confidence  in  our  good  faith.     I  ask  for  no  more." 

"  With  Germans  we  are  supercilious  Celts ;  with  French- 
men we  are  sneering  Teutons :  —  Can  we  be  loved,  Mr. 
Tuckham  ?  " 

"That's  a  quotation  from  my  friend  Lydiard.  Loved? 
No  nation  ever  was  loved  while  it  lived.  As  Lydiard  says, 
it  may  be  a  good  beast  or  a  bad,  but  a  beast  it  is.  A 
nation's  much  too  big  for  refined  feelings  and  affections. 


442  BEAtTCHAMP*S  CAREER 

It  must  be  powerful  or  out  of  the  way,  or  down  it  goes. 
When  a  nation 's  dead  you  may  love  it ;  but  I  don't  see 
the  use  of  dying  to  be  loved.  My  aim  for  my  country  is 
to  have  the  land  respected.  For  that  purpose  we  must 
have  power  j  for  power  wealth ;  for  wealth  industry ;  for 
industry  internal  peace :  therefore  no  agitation,  no  artificial 
divisions.  All 's  plain  in  history  and  fact,  so  long  as  we 
do  not  obtrude  sentimentalism.  Nothing  mixes  well  with 
that  stuff —  except  poetical  ideas  ! " 

Contrary  to  her  anticipation,  Cecilia  was  thrown  more 
into  companionship  with  Mr.  Tuckham  than  with  Mr. 
Austin ;  and  though  it  often  vexed  her,  she  acknowledged 
that  she  derived  a  benefit  from  his  robust  antagonism  of 
opinion.  And  Italy  had  grown  tasteless  to  her.  She  could 
hardly  simulate  sufficient  curiosity  to  serve  for  a  vacant 
echo  to  Mr.  Austin's  historic  ardour.  Pliny  the  Younger 
might  indeed  be  the  model  of  a  gentleman  of  old  Eome  ; 
there  might  be  a  scholarly  pleasure  in  calculating,  as  Mr. 
Austin  did,  the  length  of  time  it  took  Pliny  to  journey  from 
the  city  to  his  paternal  farm,  or  villa  overlooking  the  lake, 
or  villa  overlooking  the  bay,  and  some  abstruse  fun  in  the 
tender  ridicule  of  his  readings  of  his  poems  to  friends ;  for 
Mr.  Austin  smiled  effusively  in  alluding  to  the  illustrious 
Eoman  pleader's  foible  of  verse  :  but  Pliny  bore  no  resem- 
blance to  that  island  barbarian  Nevil  Beauchamp :  she  could 
not  realize  the  friend  of  Trajan,  orator,  lawyer,  student, 
statesman,  benefactor  of  his  kind,  and  model  of  her  own 
modern  English  gentleman,  though  he  was.  ^'  Yes  ! "  she 
would  reply  encouragingly  to  Seymour  Austin's  fond  brood- 
ing hum  about  his  hero ;  and  "  Yes ! "  conclusively :  like 
an  incarnation  of  stupidity  dealing  in  monosyllables.  She 
was  unworthy  of  the  society  of  a  scholar.  Nor  could  she 
kneel  at  the  feet  of  her  especial  heroes :  Dante,  Kaphael, 
Buonarotti :  she  was  unworthy  of  them.  She  longed  to  be 
at  Mount  Laurels.  Mr.  Tuckham's  conversation  was  the 
nearest  approach  to  it  —  as  it  were  round  by  Greenland; 
but  it  was  homeward. 

She  was  really  grieved  to  lose  him.  Business  called  him 
to  England. 

"  What  business  can  it  be,  papa  ?  "  she  inquired ;  and  the 
colonel  replied  briefly,  "  Ours." 


AS  IT  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  FORESEEN  443 

Mr.  Austin  now  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  the  instruc- 
tion of  her  in  the  ancient  life  of  the  Eternal  City.  He  had 
certain  volumes  of  Livy,  Niebuhr,  and  Gibbon,  from  which 
he  read  her  extracts  at  night,  shunning  the  scepticism  and 
the  irony  of  the  moderns,  so  that  there  should  be  no  jar  on 
the  awakening  interest  of  his  fair  pupil  and  patient.  A 
gentle  cross-hauling  ensued  between  them,  that  they  grew 
conscious  of  and  laughed  over  during  their  peregrinations 
in  and  out  of  Rome :  she  pulled  for  the  Republic  of  the 
Scipios;  his  predilections  were  toward  the  Rome  of  the 
wise  and  clement  emperors.  To  Cecilia's  mind  Rome  rocked 
at  a  period  so  closely  neighbouring  her  decay :  to  him,  with 
an  imagination  brooding  on  the  fuller  knowledge  of  it,  the 
city  breathed  securely,  the  sky  was  clear ;  jurisprudence, 
rhetoric,  statesmanship,  then  flourished  supreme,  and  men 
eminent  for  culture :  the  finest  flowers  of  our  race,  he 
thought  them :  and  he  thought  their  Age  the  manhood  of 
Rome. 

Struck  suddenly  by  a  feminine  subtle  comparison  that 
she  could  not  have  framed  in  speech,  Cecilia  bowed  to  his 
views  of  the  happiness  and  elevation  proper  to  the  sway  of 
a  sagacious  and  magnanimous  Imperialism  of  the  Roman 
pattern  :  —  he  rejected  the  French.  She  mused  on  dim  old 
thoughts  of  the  gracious  dignity  of  a  woman's  life  under 
high  governorship.  Turbulent  young  men  imperilled  it  at 
every  step.  The  trained,  the  grave,  the  partly  grey,  were 
fitting  lords  and  mates  for  women  aspiring  to  moral  beauty 
and  distinction.  Besides  such  they  should  be  planted,  if 
they  would  climb !  Her  walks  and  conversations  with 
Seymour  Austin  charmed  her  as  the  haze  of  a  summer 
evening  charms  the  sight. 

Upon  the  conclusion  of  her  term  of  exile  Cecilia  would 
gladly  have  remained  in  Italy  another  month.  An  appoint- 
ment of  her  father's  with  Mr.  Tuckham  at  Mount  Laurels 
on  a  particular  day  she  considered  as  of  no  consequence 
whatever,  and  she  said  so,  in  response  to  a  meaningless  nod. 
But  Mr.  Austin  was  obliged  to  return  to  work.  She  set  her 
face  homeward  with  his  immediately,  and  he  looked  pleased : 
he  did  not  try  to  dissuade  her  from  accompanying  him  by 
affecting  to  think  it  a  sacrifice  :  clearly  he  knew  that  to  be 
near  him  was  her  greatest  delight. 


444  BE AUCH amp's  career 

Thus  do  we  round  the  perilous  headland  called  love  :  by 
wooing  a  good  man  for  his  friendship,  and  requiting  him 
with  faithful  esteem  for  the  grief  of  an  ill-fortuned  passion 
of  his  youth ! 

Cecilia  would  not  suffer  her  fancy  to  go  very  far  in  pur- 
suit of  the  secret  of  Mr.  Austin's  present  feelings.  Until 
she  reached  Mount  Laurels  she  barely  examined  her  own. 
The  sight  of  the  house  warned  her  instantly  that  she  must 
have  a  defence :  and  then,  in  desperation  but  with  perfect 
distinctness,  she  entertained  the  hope  of  hearing  him  speak 
the  protecting  words  which  could  not  be  broken  through 
when  wedded  to  her  consent. 

If  Mr.  Austin  had  no  intentions,  it  was  at  least  strange 
that  he  did  not  part  from  her  in  London. 

He  whose  coming  she  dreaded  had  been  made  aware  of 
the  hour  of  her  return,  as  his  card,  with  the  pencilled  line, 
"  Will  call  on  the  17th,''  informed  her.  The  17th  was  the 
morrow. 

After  breakfast  on  the  morning  of  the  17th  Seymour 
Austin  looked  her  in  the  eyes  longer  than  it  is  customary 
for  ladies  to  have  to  submit  to  keen  inspection. 

"  Will  you  come  into  the  library  ?  "  he  said. 

She  went  with  him  into  the  library. 

Was  it  to  speak  of  his  anxiousness  as  to  the  state  of 
her  father's  health  that  he  had  led  her  there,  and  that  he 
held  her  hand  ?  He  alarmed  her,  and  he  pacified  her 
alarm,  yet  bade  her  reflect  on  the  matter,  saying  that  her 
father,  like  other  fathers,  would  be  more  at  peace  upon  the 
establishment  of  his  daughter.  Mr.  Austin  remarked  that 
the  colonel  was  troubled. 

"  Does  he  wish  for  my  pledge  never  to  marry  without  his 
approval  ?     I  will  give  it,"  said  Cecilia. 

"  He  would  like  you  to  undertake  to  marry  the  man  of 
his  choice." 

Cecilia's  features  hung  on  an  expression  equivalent  to : 
"  I  could  almost  do  that." 

At  the  same  time  she  felt  it  was  not  Seymour  Austin's 
manner  of  speaking.  He  seemed  to  be  praising  an  un- 
known person  —  some  gentleman  who  was  rough,  but  of 
solid  promise  and  singular  strength  of  character. 

The   house-bell   rang.     Believing  that   Beauchamp   had 


AS  IT  MIGHT   HAVE  BEEN  FORESEEN  445 

now  come,  she  showed  a  painful  ridging  of  the  brows,  and 
Mr.  Austin  considerately  mentioned  the  name  of  the  person 
he  had  in  his  mind. 

She  readily  agreed  with  him  regarding  Mr.  Tuckham's 
excellent  qualities,  —  if  that  was  indeed  the  name  ;  and  she 
hastened  to  recollect  how  little  she  had  forgotten  Mr.  Tuck- 
ham's generosity  to  Beauchamp,  and  confessed  to  herself  it 
might  as  well  have  been  forgotten  utterly  for  the  thanks 
he  had  received.  While  revolving  these  ideas  she  was 
listening  to  Mr.  Austin ;  gradually  she  was  beginning  to 
nnderstand  that  she  was  parting  company  with  her  original 
conjectures,  but  going  at  so  swift  a  pace  in  so  supple  and 
sure  a  grasp,  that,  like  the  speeding  train  slipped  on  new 
lines  of  rails  by  the  pointsman,  her  hurrying  sensibility  was 
not  shocked,  or  the  shock  was  imperceptible,  when  she 
heard  him  proposing  Mr.  Tuckham  to  her  for  a  husband, 
by  her  father's  authority,  and  with  his  own  warm  second- 
ing. He  had  not  dropped  her  hand :  he  was  very  eloquent, 
a  masterly  advocate  :  he  pleaded  her  father's  cause  ;  it  was 
not  put  to  her  as  Mr.  Tuckham's :  her  father  had  set  his 
heart  on  this  union  :  he  was  awaiting  her  decision. 

"  Is  it  so  urgent  ?  "  she  asked. 

"It  is  urgent.  It  saves  him  from  an  annoyance.  He 
requires  a  son-in-law  whom  he  can  confidently  rely  on  to 
manage  the  estates,  which  you  are  woman  of  the  world 
enough  to  know  should  be  in  strong  hands.  He  gives  you 
to  a  man  of  settled  principles.  It  is  urgent,  because  he 
may  wish  to  be  armed  with  your  answer  at  any  instant." 

Her  father  entered  the  library.  He  embraced  her,  and 
"Well?  "he  said. 

"  I  must  think,  papa,  I  must  think." 

She  pressed  her  hand  across  her  eyes.  Disillusioned  by 
Seymour  Austin,  she  was  utterly  defenceless  before  Beau- 
champ:  and  possibly  Beauchamp  was  in  the  house.  She 
fancied  he  was,  by  the  impatient  brevity  of  her  father's 
voice. 

Seymour  Austin  and  Colonel  Halkett  left  the  room,  and 
Blackburn  Tuckham  walked  in,  not  the  most  entirely  self- 
possessed  of  suitors,  puffing  softly  under  his  breath,  and 
blinking  eyes  as  rapidly  as  a  skylark  claps  wings  on  the 
ascent. 


446  beauchAmp's  career 

Half  an  hour  later  Beauchamp  appeared.  He  asked  to  see 
the  colonel,  delivered  himself  of  his  pretensions  and  wishes 
to  the  colonel,  and  was  referred  to  Cecilia ;  but  Colonel 
Halkett  declined  to  send  for  her.  Beauchamp  declined  to 
postpone  his  proposal  until  the  following  day.  He  went 
outside  the  house  and  walked  up  and  down  the  grass-plot. 

Cecilia  came  to  him  at  last. 

"  I  hear,  Nevil,  that  you  are  waiting  to  speak  to  me." 

"  I  Ve  been  waiting  some  weeks.     Shall  I  speak  here  ?  " 

**Yes,  here,  quickly." 

"  Before  the  house  ?  I  have  come  to  ask  you  for  your 
hand." 

*^  Mine  ?     I  cannot  .  .  ." 

"  Step  into  the  park  with  me.    I  ask  you  to  marry  me." 

"It  is  too  late." 


CHAPTER  XL VII 

THE   REFUSAL   OF    HIM 


Passing  from  one  scene  of  excitement  to  another,  Cecilia 
was  perfectly  steeled  for  her  bitter  task ;  and  having  done 
that  which  separated  her  a  sphere^s  distance  from  Beau- 
champ,  she  was  cold,  inaccessible  to  the  face  of  him  who  had 
swayed  her  on  flood  and  ebb  so  long,  incapable  of  tender 
pity,  even  for  herself.  All  she  could  feel  was  a  harsh  joy 
to  have  struck  off  her  tyrant's  fetters,  with  a  determination 
to  cherish  it  passionately  lest  she  should  presently  be  hating 
herself :  for  the  shadow  of  such  a  possibility  fell  within  the 
narrow  circle  of  her  strung  sensations.  But  for  the  moment 
her  delusion  reached  to  the  idea  that  she  had  escaped  from 
him  into  freedom,  when  she  said,  '*  It  is  too  late."  Those 
words  were  the  sum  and  voice  of  her  long  term  of  endur- 
ance. She  said  them  hurriedly,  almost  in  a  whisper,  in  the 
manner  of  one  changing  a  theme  of  conversation  for  sub- 
jects happier  and  livelier,  though  none  followed. 

The  silence  bore  back  on  her  a  suspicion  of  a  faint 
reproachful ness  in  the  words ;  and  perhaps  they  carried  a 
poetical  tone,  still  more  distasteful. 


THE  BEFtTSAL  OF  HIM  447 

"You  have  been  listening  to  tales  of  me,"  said  Beau- 
champ. 

''Nevil,  we  can  always  be  friends,  the  best  of  friends." 

"  Were  you  astonished  at  my  asking  you  for  your  hand  ? 
You  said  *  mine  ?  ^  as  if  you  wondered.  You  have  known 
my  feelings  for  you.  Can  you  deny  that  ?  I  have  reckoned 
on  yours  —  too  long  ?  —  But  not  falsely  ?  No,  hear  me  out. 
The  truth  is,  I  cannot  lose  you.  And  don't  look  so  reso- 
lute. Overlook  little  wounds :  I  was  never  indifferent  to 
you.  How  could  I  be  —  with  eyes  in  my  head  ?  The  colo- 
nel is  opposed  to  me  of  course  :  he  will  learn  to  understand 
me  better :  but  you  and  I !  we  cannot  be  mere  friends.  It 's 
like  daylight  blotted  out  —  or  the  eyes  gone  blind  :  —  Too 
late  ?  Can  you  repeat  it  ?  I  tried  to  warn  you  before  you 
left  England  :  I  should  have  written  a  letter  to  put  you  on 
your  guard  against  my  enemies  :  — I  find  I  have  some :  but 
a  letter  is  sure  to  stumble ;  I  should  have  been  obliged  to 
tell  you  that  I  do  not  stand  on  my  defence ;  and  I  thought 
I  should  see  you  the  next  day.  You  went :  and  not  a  word 
for  me  !  You  gave  me  no  chance.  If  you  have  no  confidence 
in  me  I  must  bear  it.  I  may  say  the  story  is  false.  With 
your  hand  in  mine  I  would  swear  it." 

"  Let  it  be  forgotten,"  said  Cecilia,  surprised  and  shaken 
to  think  that  her  situation  required  further  explanations ; 
fascinated  and  unnerved  by  simply  hearing  him.  "  We  are 
now  —  we  are  walking  away  from  the  house." 

"  Do  you  object  to  a  walk  with  me  ?  " 

They  had  crossed  the  garden  plot  and  were  at  the  gate  of 
the  park  leading  to  the  Western  wood.  Beauchamp  swung 
the  gate  open.  He  cast  a  look  at  the  clouds  coming  up  from 
the  South-west  in  folds  of  grey  and  silver. 

"  Like  the  day  of  our  drive  into  Bevisham  !  —  without  the 
storm  behind,"  he  said,  and  doated  on  her  soft  shut  lips,  and 
the  mild  sun-rays  of  her  hair  in  sunless  light.  "  There  are 
flowers  that  grow  only  in  certain  valleys,  and  your  home  is 
Mount  Laurels,  whatever  your  fancy  may  be  for  Italy.  You 
colour  the  whole  region  for  me.  When  you  were  absent, 
you  were  here.  I  called  here  six  times,  and  walked  and 
talked  with  you." 

Cecilia  set  her  face  to  the  garden.  Her  heart  had  entered 
on  a  course  of  heavy  thumping,  like  a  sapper  in  the  mine. 


448  BE AUCH amp's  career 

Pain  was  not  unwelcome  to  her,  but  this  threatened 
weakness. 

What  plain  words  could  she  use  ?  If  Mr.  Tuckham  had 
been  away  from  the  house,  she  would  have  found  it  easier  to 
speak  of  her  engagement ;  she  knew  not  why.  Or  if  the 
imperative  communication  could  have  been  delivered  in 
Italian  or  French,  she  was  as  little  able  to  say  why  it  would 
have  slipped  from  her  tongue  without  a  critic  shudder  to 
arrest  it.  She  was  cold  enough  to  revolve  the  words : 
betrothed,  affianced,  plighted:  and  reject  them,  pretty  words 
as  they  are.  Between  the  vulgarity  of  romantic  language 
and  the  baldness  of  common-place,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
our  English  gives  us  no  choice;  that  we  cannot  be  digni- 
fied in  simplicity.  And  for  some  reason,  feminine  and 
remote,  she  now  detested  her  "hand"  so  much  as  to  be 
unable  to  bring  herself  to  the  metonymic  mention  of  it. 
The  lady's  difficulty  was  peculiar  to  sweet  natures  that 
have  no  great  warmth  of  passion  ;  it  can  only  be  indicated. 
Like  others  of  the  kind,  it  is  traceable  to  the  most  delicate 
of  sentiments,  and  to  the  flattest :  —  for  Mr.  Blackburn 
Tuckham' s  figure  was  (she  thought  of  it  with  no  personal 
objection)  not  of  the  graceful  order,  neither  cavalierly  nor 
kingly :  and  imagining  herself  to  say,  '^I  am  engaged,"  and 
he  suddenly  appearing  on  the  field,  Cecilia's  whole  mind 
was  shocked :  in  so  marked  a  way  did  he  contrast  with 
Beauchamp. 

This  was  the  effect  of  Beauchamp's  latest  words  on  her. 
He  had  disarmed  her  anger. 

"  We  must  have  a  walk  to-day,"  he  said  commandingly, 
but  it  had  stolen  into  him  that  he  and  she  were  not  walking 
on  the  same  bank  of  the  river,  though  they  were  side  by 
side :  a  chill  water  ran  between  them.  As  in  other  days, 
there  hung  her  hand :  but  not  to  be  taken.  Incredible  as  it 
was,  the  icy  sense  of  his  having  lost  her  benumbed  him. 
Her  beautiful  face  and  beautiful  tall  figure,  so  familiar  to 
him  that  they  were  like  a  possession,  protested  in  his 
favour  while  they  snatched  her  from  him  all  the  distance 
of  the  Avords  "too  late." 

"  Will  you  not  give  me  one  half-hour  ?  " 

"  I  am  engaged,"  Cecilia  plunged  and  extricated  herself, 
"  I  am  engaged  to  walk  with  Mr.  Austin  and  papa." 


THE  REFUSAL  OF  HIM  449 

Beauchamp  tossed  his  head.  Something  induced  him  to 
speak  of  Mr.  Tuckham.  "  The  colonel  has  discovered  his 
Tory  young  man  !  It 's  an  object  as  incomprehensible  to 
me  as  a  Tory  working-man.  I  suppose  I  must  take  it  that 
they  exist.  As  for  Blackburn  Tuckham,  I  have  nothing 
against  him.  He  's  an  honourable  fellow  enough,  and  would 
govern  Great  Britain  as  men  of  that  rich  middle-class  rule 
their  wives  —  with  a  strict  regard  for  ostensible  humanity 
and  what  the  law  allows  them.  His  manners  have  improved. 
Your  cousin  Mary  seems  to  like  him :  it  struck  me  when  I 
saw  them  together.  Cecilia !  one  half -hour !  You  refuse 
me:  you  have  not  heard  me.     You  will  not  say  too  late.'' 

"  Nevil,  I  have  said  it  finally.  I  have  no  longer  the  right 
to  conceive  it  unsaid." 

"  So  we  speak  !  It 's  the  language  of  indolence,  temper, 
faint  hearts.  *  Too  late '  has  no  meaning.  Turn  back  with 
me  to  the  park.  I  offer  you  my  whole  heart ;  I  love  you. 
There 's  no  woman  living  who  could  be  to  me  the  wife  you 
would  be.  I  'm  like  your  male  nightingale  that  you  told  me 
of :  I  must  have  my  mate  to  sing  to  —  that  is,  work  for  and 
live  for ;  and  she  must  not  delay  too  long.  Did  I?  Pardon 
me  if  you  think  I  did.  You  have  known  I  love  you.  I  have 
been  distracted  by  things  that  kept  me  from  thinking  of 
myself  and  my  wishes  :  and  love  's  a  selfish  business  while 
.  .  .  while  one  has  work  in  hand.  It 's  clear  I  can't  do 
two  things  at  a  time  —  make  love  and  carry  on  my  task- 
work. I  have  been  idle  for  weeks.  I  believed  you  were 
mine  and  wanted  no  lovemaking.  There 's  no  folly  in  that, 
if  you  understand  me  at  all.  As  for  vanity  about  women, 
I  've  outlived  it.  In  comparison  with  you  I  'm  poor,  I 
know :  —  you  look  distressed,  but  one  has  to  allude  to  it : 
—  I  admit  that  wealth  would  help  me.  To  see  wealth 
supporting  the  cause  of  the  people  for  once  would  —  but 
you  say,  too  late  !  Well,  I  don't  renounce  you  till  I  see 
you  giving  your  hand  to  a  man  who  's  not  myself.  You 
have  been  offended :  groundlessly,  on  my  honour !  You  are 
the  woman  of  all  women  in  the  world  to  hold  me  fast  in 
faith  and  pride  in  you.  It 's  useless  to  look  icy :  you  feel 
what  I  say." 

^'  Nevil,  I  feel  grief,  and  beg  you  to  cease.  I  am  .  .  . 
It  is  —  " 

29 


450  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

" '  Too  late  '  has  not  a  rag  of  meaning,  Cecilia  !  I  love 
your  name.  I  love  this  too :  this  is  mine,  and  no  one  can 
rob  me  of  it." 

He  drew  forth  a  golden  locket  and  showed  her  a  curl  of 
her  hair. 

Crimsoning,  she  said  instantly :  "  Language  of  the  kind 
I  used  is  open  to  misconstruction,  I  fear.  I  have  not  even 
the  right  to  listen  to  you.  I  am  .  .  .  You  ask  me  for  what 
I  have  it  no  longer  in  my  power  to  give.     I  am  engaged." 

The  shot  rang  through  him  and  partly  stunned  him ;  but 
incredulity  made  a  mocking  effort  to  sustain  him.  The 
greater  wounds  do  not  immediately  convince  us  of  our  fate, 
though  we  may  be  conscious  that  we  have  been  hit. 

"  Engaged  in  earnest  ?  "  said  he. 

"Yes." 

"Of  your  free  will?" 

"Yes." 

Her  father  stepped  out  on  the  terrace,  from  one  of  the 
open  windows,  trailing  a  newspaper  like  a  pocket-handker- 
chief.    Cecilia  threaded  the  flower-beds  to  meet  him. 

"Here's  an  accident  to  one  of  our  ironclads,"  he  called 
to  Beauchamp. 

"  Lives  lost,  sir  ?  " 

"No,  thank  heaven!  but,  upon  my  word,  it 's  a  warning. 
Read  the  telegram ;  it 's  the  Hastings.  If  these  are  our 
defences,  at  a  cost  of  half  a  million  of  money,  each  of 
them,  the  sooner  we  look  to  our  land  forces  the  better." 

"The  Shop  will  not  be  considered  safe!"  said  Beau- 
champ,  taking  in  the  telegram  at  a  glance.  "Peppel  's  a 
first-rate  officer  too :  she  could  n't  have  had  a  better  cap- 
tain.    Ship  seriously  damaged! " 

He  handed  back  the  paper  to  the  colonel. 

Cecilia  expected  him  to  say  that  he  had  foreseen  such  an 
event. 

He  said  nothing;  and  with  a  singular  contraction  of  the 
heart  she  recollected  how  he  had  denounced  our  system  of 
preparing  mainly  for  the  defensive  in  war,  on  a  day  when 
they  stood  together  in  the  park,  watching  the  slow  pas- 
sage of  that  very  ship,  the  Hastings,  along  the  broad  water, 
distant  below  them.  The  *^  swarms  of  swift  vessels  of 
attackf^^  she  recollected  particularly,  and  ^^ small  wasj)s  and 


THE  REFUSAL   OF  HIM  451 

rams  under  mighty  steam-power ^^  that  he  used  to  harp  on 
when  declaring  that  England  must  be  known  for  the  assail- 
ant in  war :  she  was  to  "  ray  out "  her  worrying  fleets. 
*'  The  defensive  is  perilous  policy  in  war : "  he  had  said  it. 
She  recollected  also  her  childish  ridicule  of  his  excess  of 
emphasis :  he  certainly  had  foresight. 

Mr.  Austin  and  Mr.  Tuckham  came  strolling  in  conver- 
sation round  the  house  to  the  terrace.  Beauchamp  bowed 
to  the  former,  nodded  to  the  latter,  scrutinizing  him  after 
he  had  done  so,  as  if  the  flash  of  a  thought  were  in  his 
mind.  Tuckham's  radiant  aspect  possibly  excited  it: 
"  Congratulate  me  !  "  was  the  honest  outcry  of  his  face  and 
frame.  He  was  as  overflowingly  rosy  as  a  victorious 
candidate  at  the  hustings  commencing  a  speech.  Cecilia 
laid  her  hand  on  an  urn,  in  dread  of  the  next  words  from 
either  of  the  persons  present.  Her  father  put  an  arm  in 
hers,  and  leaned  on  her.  She  gazed  at  her  chamber  win- 
dow above,  wishing  to  be  wafted  thither  to  her  seclusion 
within.  The  trembling  limbs  of  physical  irresoluteness 
was  a  new  experience  to  her. 

"  Anything  else  in  the  paper,  colonel  ?  I  've  not  seen  it 
to-day,"  said  Beauchamp,  for  the  sake  of  speaking. 

"No,  I  don't  think  there  's  anything,"  Colonel  Halkett 
replied.  "Our  diplomatists  haven't  been  shining  much: 
that's  not  our  forte." 

"No:  it's  our  field  for  younger  sons." 

"Is  it  ?  Ah  !  There  's  an  expedition  against  the  hill- 
tribes  in  India,  and  we  're  such  a  peaceful  nation,  eh  ? 
We  look  as  if  we  were  in  for  a  complication  with  China." 

"Well,  sir,  we  must  sell  our  opium." 

"  Of  course  we  must.  There  's  a  man  writing  about 
surrendering  Gibraltar  ! " 

"I  'm  afraid  we  can't  do  that." 

"  But  where  do  you  draw  the  line  ? "  quoth  Tuckham, 
very  susceptible  to  a  sneer  at  the  colonel,  and  entirely  igno- 
rant of  the  circumstances  attending  Beauchamp's  position 
before  him.  "You  defend  the  Chinaman;  and  it 's  ques- 
tionable if  his  case  is  as  good  as  the  Spaniard's." 

"  The  Chinaman  has  a  case  against  our  traders.  Gibral- 
tar concerns  our  imperial  policy." 

"As  to  the  case  against  the  English  merchants,  the 


452  BBAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Chinaman  is  for  shutting  up  his  millions  of  acres  of 
productive  land,  and  the  action  of  commerce  is  merely  a 
declaration  of  a  universal  public  right,  to  which  all  States 
must  submit." 

"Immorality  brings  its  punishment,  be  sure  of  that. 
Some  day  we  shall  have  enough  of  China.  As  to  the  Eock, 
I  know  the  argument;  I  may  be  wrong.  I  've  had  the 
habit  of  regarding  it  as  necessary  to  our  naval  supremacy." 

"Come!  there  we  agree." 

"I'm  not  so  certain." 

"The  counter-argument,  I  call  treason." 

"Well,"  said  Beauchamp,  "there's  a  broad  policy,  and 
a  narrow.  There  's  the  Spanish  view  of  the  matter  —  if 
you  are  for  peace  and  harmony  and  disarmament." 

"I'm  not." 

"Then  strengthen  your  forces." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!" 

"  Then  bully  the  feeble  and  truckle  to  the  strong ;  con- 
sent to  be  hated  till  you  have  to  stand  your  ground." 

"Talk!"    > 

"It  seems  to  me  logical." 

"That 's  the  French  notion  —  c'est  lodgique!  " 

Tuckham's  pronunciation  caused  Cecilia  to  level  her  eyes 
at  bim  passingly. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Colonel  Halkett,  "there  are  lots  of 
horrors  in  the  paper  to-day ;  wife  kickings,  and  starvations 
—  oh,  dear  me!  and  the  murder  of  a  woman:  two  columns 
to  that." 

"That,  the  Tory  reaction  is  responsible  for!"  said 
Tuckham,  rather  by  way  of  a  joke  than  a  challenge. 

Beauchamp  accepted  it  as  a  challenge.  Much  to  the 
benevolent  amusement  of  Mr.  Austin  and  Colonel  Halkett, 
he  charged  the  responsibility  of  every  crime  committed  in 
the  country,  and  every  condition  of  misery,  upon  the  party 
which  declined  to  move  in  advance,  and  which  therefore 
apologized  for  the  perpetuation  of  knavery,  villany,  bru- 
tality, injustice,  and  foul  dealing. 

"Stick  to  your  laws  and  systems  and  institutions,  and 
so  long  as  you  won*t  stir  to  amend  them,  I  hold  you  ac- 
countable for  that  long  newspaper  list  daily." 

He  said  this  with  a  visible  fire  of  conviction. 


THE  REFUSAL   OF  HIM  453 

Tuckham  stood  bursting  at  the  monstrousness  of  such  a 
statement. 

He  condensed  his  indignant  rejoinder  to:  "Madness 
can't  go  farther! " 

"There  's  an  idea  in  it,"  said  Mr.  Austin. 

"It 's  an  idea  foaming  at  the  mouth,  then! " 

"  Perhaps  it  has  no  worse  fault  than  that  of  not  march- 
ing parallel  with  the  truth,"  said  Mr.  Austin,  smiling. 
"The  party  accusing  in  those  terms  .  .  .  what  do  you 
say,  Captain  Beauchamp  ?  —  supposing  us  to  be  pleading 
before  a  tribunal  ?  " 

Beauchamp  admitted  as  much  as  that  he  had  made  the 
case  gigantic,  though  he  stuck  to  his  charge  against  the 
Tory  party.  And  moreover :  the  Tories  —  and  the  old 
Whigs,  now  Liberals,  ranked  under  the  heading  of  Tories 
—  those  Tories  possessing  and  representing  the  wealth  of 
the  country,  yet  had  not  started  one  respectable  journal 
that  a  lady  could  read  through  without  offence  to  her,  or 
a  gentleman  without  disgust!  If  there  was  not  one  Eng- 
lish newspaper  in  existence  independent  of  circulation  and 
advertisements,  and  of  the  tricks  to  win  them,  the  Tories 
were  answerable  for  the  vacancy.  They,  being  the  rich 
who,  if  they  chose,  could  set  an  example  to  our  Press  by 
subscribing  to  maintain  a  Journal  superior  to  the  flattering 
of  vile  appetites  —  "all  that  nauseous  matter,"  Beauchamp 
stretched  his  finger  at  the  sheets  Colonel  Halkett  was 
holding,  and  which  he  had  not  read  —  "those  Tories,"  he 
bowed  to  the  colonel,  "  I  'm  afraid  I  must  say  you,  sir,  are 
answerable  for  it." 

"I  am  very  well  satisfied  with  my  paper,"  said  the 
colonel. 

Beauchamp  sighed  to  himself.  "  We  choose  to  be  satis- 
fied," he  said.  His  pure  and  mighty  Dawn  was  in  his 
thoughts :  the  unborn  light  of  a  day  denied  to  earth ! 

One  of  the  doctors  of  Bevisham,  visiting  a  sick  maid 
of  the  house,  trotted  up  the  terrace  to  make  his  report  to 
her  master  of  the  state  of  her  health.  He  hoped  to  pull 
her  through  with  the  aid  of  high  feeding.  He  alluded 
cursorily  to  a  young  girl  living  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  whom  he  had  been  called  in  to  see  at  the  eleventh 
hour,  and  had  lost,  owing  to  the  lowering  of  his  patient 


454  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

from  a  prescription  of  a  vegetable  diet  by  a  certain  Dr. 
Shrapnel. 

That  ever-explosive  name  precipitated  Beauchamp  to  the 
front  rank  of  the  defence. 

"I  happen  to  be  staying  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,"  he  ob- 
served. ''I  don't  eat  meat  there  because  he  doesn't,  and 
I  am  certain  I  take  no  harm  by  avoiding  it.  I  think 
vegetarianism  a  humaner  system,  and  hope  it  may  be  wise. 
I  should  like  to  see  the  poor  practising  it,  for  their  own 
sakes ;  and  I  have  half  an  opinion  that  it  would  be  good  for 
the  rich  —  if  we  are  to  condemn  gluttony." 

"Ah  ?  Captain  Beauchamp!  "  the  doctor  bowed  to  him. 
"But  my  case  was  one  of  poor  blood  requiring  to  be 
strengthened.  The  girl  was  allowed  to  sink  so  low  that 
stimulants  were  ineffective  when  I  stepped  in.  There  's 
the  point.  It 's  all  very  well  while  you  are  in  health. 
You  may  do  without  meat  till  your  system  demands  the 
stimulant,  or  else  —  as  with  this  poor  girl!  And,  indeed, 
Captain  Beauchamp,  if  I  may  venture  the  remark  —  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  during  the  last  Election  in  our 
town  —  and  if  I  may  be  so  bold,  I  should  venture  to  hint 
that  the  avoidance  of  animal  food  —  to  judge  by  appear- 
ances —  has  not  been  quite  wholesome  for  you." 

Eyes  were  turned  on  Beauchamp. 


CHAPTEE  XLVIII 

OP   THE  TRIAL   AWAITING   THE   EARL    OP   ROMFREY 

Cecilia  softly  dropped  her  father's  arm,  and  went  into 
the  house.  The  exceeding  pallor  of  Beauchamp's  face 
haunted  her  in  her  room.  She  heard  the  controversy 
proceeding  below,  and  an  exclamation  of  Blackburn  Tuck- 
ham's:  "Immorality  of  meat-eating?  What  nonsense  are 
they  up  to  now  ?  " 

Beauchamp  was  inaudible,  save  in  a  word  or  two.  As 
usual,  he  was  the  solitary  minority. 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EARL  455 

But  how  mournfully  changed  he  was!  She  had  not 
noticed  it,  agitated  by  her  own  emotions  as  she  had  been, 
and  at  one  time  three  parts  frozen.  He  was  the  ghost  of 
the  Nevil  Beauchamp  who  had  sprung  on  the  deck  of  the 
Esperanzd  out  of  Lieutenant  Wilmore's  boat,  that  sunny 
breezy  day  which  was  the  bright  first  chapter  of  her  new 
life  —  of  her  late  life,  as  it  seemed  to  her  now,  for  she  was 
dead  to  it,  and  another  creature,  the  coldest  of  the  women 
of  earth.  She  felt  sensibly  cold,  coveted  warmth,  flung  a 
shawl  on  her  shoulders,  and  sat  in  a  corner  of  her  room, 
hidden  and  shivering  beside  the  open  window,  till  long 
after  the  gentlemen  had  ceased  to  speak. 

How  much  he  must  have  suffered  of  late !  The  room  she 
had  looked  to  as  a  refuge  from  Nevil  was  now  her  strong- 
hold against  the  man  whom  she  had  incredibly  accepted. 
She  remained  there,  the  victim  of  a  heart  malady,  under 
the  term  of  headache.  Feeling  entrapped,  she  considered 
that  she  must  have  been  encircled  and  betrayed.  She 
looked  back  on  herself  as  a  giddy  figure  falling  into  a  pit : 
and  in  the  pit  she  lay. 

And  how  vile  to  have  suspected  of  unfaithfulness  and 
sordidness  the  generous  and  stedfast  man  of  earth!  He 
never  abandoned  a  common  friendship.  His  love  of  his 
country  was  love  still,  whatever  the  form  it  had  taken. 
His  childlike  reliance  on  effort  and  outspeaking,  for  which 
men  laughed  at  him,  was  beautiful. 

Where  am  I  ?  she  cried  amid  her  melting  images  of  him, 
all  dominated  by  his  wan  features.  She  was  bound  fast, 
imprisoned  and  a  slave.  Even  Mr.  Austin  had  conspired 
against  him :  for  only  she  read  Nevil  justly.  His  defence 
of  Dr,  Shrapnel  filled  her  with  an  envy  that  no  longer 
maligned  the  object  of  it,  but  was  humble,  and  like  the 
desire  of  the  sick  to  creep  into  sunshine. 

The  only  worthy  thing  she  could  think  of  doing  was  (it 
must  be  mentioned  for  a  revelation  of  her  fallen  state,  and, 
moreover,  she  was  not  lusty  of  health  at  the  moment)  to 
abjure  meat.  The  body  loathed  it,  and  consequently  the 
mind  of  the  invalided  lady  shrank  away  in  horror  of  the 
bleeding  joints,  and  the  increasingly  fierce  scramble  of 
Christian  souls  for  the  dismembered  animals :  she  saw  the 
innocent  pasturing  beasts,  she  saw  the  act  of  slaughter. 


456  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

She  had  actually  sweeping  before  her  sight  a  spectacle  of 
the  ludicrous -terrific,  in  the  shape  of  an  entire  community 
pursuing  countless  herds  of  poor  scampering  animal  life 
for  blood:  she,  meanwhile,  with  Nevil  and  Dr.  Shrapnel, 
stood  apart  contemning.  For  whoso  would  not  partake  of 
flesh  in  this  kingdom  of  roast  beef  must  be  of  the  sparse 
number  of  NeviPs  execrated  minority  in  politics. 

The  example  will  show  that  she  touched  the  borders  of 
delirium.  Physically,  the  doctor  pronounces  her  bilious. 
She  was  in  earnest  so  far  as  to  send  down  to  the  library 
for  medical  books,  and  books  upon  diet.  These,  however, 
did  not  plead  for  the  beasts.  They  treated  the  subject 
without  question  of  man's  taking  that  which  he  has  con- 
quered. Poets  and  philosophers  did  the  same.  Again  she 
beheld  Nevil  Beauchamp  solitary  in  the  adverse  rank  to 
the  world; — to  his  countrymen  especially.  But  that  it 
was  no  material  cause  which  had  wasted  his  cheeks  and 
lined  his  forehead,  she  was  sure:  and  to  starve  with  him,  to 
embark  with  him  in  his  little  boat  on  the  seas  he  whipped 
to  frenzy,  would  have  been  a  dream  of  bliss,  had  she  dared 
to  contemplate  herself  in  a  dream  as  his  companion. 

It  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

No :  but  this  was,  and  to  be  thought  of  seriously :  Cecilia 
had  said  to  herself  for  consolation  that  Beauchamp  was  no 
spiritual  guide ;  he  had  her  heart  within  her  to  plead  for 
him,  and  the  reflection  came  to  her,  like  a  bubble  up  from 
the  heart,  that  most  of  our  spiritual  guides  neglect  the  root 
to  trim  the  flower:  and  thence,  turning  sharply  on  herself, 
she  obtained  a  sudden  view  of  her  allurement  and  her  sin 
in  worshipping  herself,  and  recognized  that  the  aim  at  an 
ideal  life  closely  approaches,  or  easily  inclines,  to  self- 
worship;  to  which  the  lady  was  woman  and  artist  enough 
to  have  had  no  objection,  but  that  therein  visibly  she  dis- 
cerned the  retributive  vain  longings,  in  the  guise  of  high 
individual  superiority  and  distinction,  that  had  thwarted 
her  with  ISIevil  Beauchamp,  never  permitting  her  to  love 
single-mindedly  or  whole-heartedly,  but  always  in  reclaim- 
ing her  rights  and  sighing  for  the  loss  of  her  ideal ;  ador- 
ing her  own  image,  in  fact,  when  she  pretended  to  cherish, 
and  regret  that  she  could  not  sufficiently  cherish,  the  finer 
elements  of  nature.     What  was  this  ideal  she  had   com- 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EARL  457 

plained  of  losing  ?  It  was  a  broken  mirror :  she  could  think 
of  it  in  no  other  form. 

Dr.  ShrapnePs  "Ego-Ego"  yelped  and  gave  chase  to  her 
through  the  pure  beatitudes  of  her  earlier  days  down  to  her 
present  regrets.  It  hunted  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar 
till  their  haloes  top-sided  on  their  heads  —  her  favourite 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi  excepted. 

The  doctor  was  called  up  from  Bevisham  next  day,  and 
pronounced  her  bilious.  He  was  humorous  over  Captain 
Beauchamp,  who  had  gone  to  the  parents  of  the  dead 
girl,  and  gathered  the  information  that  they  were  a  con- 
sumptive family,  to  vindicate  Dr.  Shrapnel.  "The  very 
family  to  require  strong  nourishment,"  said  the  doctor. 

Cecilia  did  not  rest  in  her  sick-room  before,  hunting 
through  one  book  and  another,  she  had  found  arguments 
on  the  contrary  side;  a  waste  of  labour  that  heaped  oppres- 
sion on  her  chest,  as  with  the  world's  weight.  Apparently 
one  had  only  to  be  in  Beauchamp's  track  to  experience 
that.  She  horrified  her  father  by  asking  questions  about 
consumption.  Homoeopathy,  hydropathy,  —  the  revolu- 
tionaries of  medicine  attracted  her.  Blackburn  Tuckham , 
a  model  for  an  elected  lover  who  is  not  beloved,  promised 
to  procure  all  sorts  of  treatises  for  her :  no  man  could  have 
been  so  deferential  to  a  diseased  mind.  Beyond  calling 
her  by  her  Christian  name,  he  did  nothing  to  distress  her 
with  the  broad  aspect  of  their  new  relations  together.  He 
and  Mr.  Austin  departed  from  Mount  Laurels^  leaving  her 
to  sink  into  an  agreeable  stupor,  like  one  ^leposited  on  a 
mudbank  after  buffeting  the  waves.  She  learnt  that  her 
father  had  seen  Captain  Baskelett,  and  remembered,  "mar- 
velling, how  her  personal  dread  of  an  interview,  that 
threatened  to  compromise  her  ideal  of  her  feminine  and 
peculiar  dignity,  had  assisted  to  precipitate  her  where  she 
now  lay  helpless,  almost  inanimate. 

She  was  unaware  of  the  passage  of  time  save  when  her 
father  spoke  of  a  marriage-day.  It  told  her  that  she  lived 
and  was  moving.  The  fear  of  death  is  not  stronger  in  us, 
nor  the  desire  to  put  it  off,  than  Cecilia^s  shunning  of  such 
a  day.  The  naming  of  it  numbed  her  blood  like  a  snake- 
bite. Yet  she  openly  acknowledged  her  engagement;  and, 
happily  for  Tuckham,  his  visits,  both  in  London  and  at 


458  BEATJCHAMP'S  CAREER 

Mount  Laurels,  were  few  and  short,  and  he  inflicted  no 
foretaste  of  her  coming  subjection  to  him  to  alarm  her. 

Under  her  air  of  calm  abstraction  she  watched  him 
rigorously  for  some  sign  of  his  ownership  that  should 
tempt  her  to  revolt  from  her  pledge,  or  at  least  dream  of 
breaking  loose :  the  dream  would  have  sufficed.  He  was 
never  intrusive,  never  pressing.  He  did  not  vex,  because 
he  absolutely  trusted  to  the  noble  loyalty  which  made  her 
admit  to  herself  that  she  belonged  irrevocably  to  him, 
while  her  thoughts  were  upon  Beauchamp.  With  a  re- 
spectful gravity  he  submitted  to  her  perusal  a  collection  of 
treatises  on  diet,  classed  pro  and  con,  and  paged  and 
pencil-marked  to  simplify  her  study  of  the  question.  They 
sketched  in  company;  she  played  music  to  him,  he  read 
poetry  to  her,  and  read  it  well.  He  seemed  to  feel  the 
beauty  of  it  sensitively,  as  she  did  critically.  In  other 
days  the  positions  had  been  reversed.  He  invariably 
talked  of  Beauchamp  with  kindness,  deploring  only  that 
he  should  be  squandering  his  money  on  workmen's  halls 
and  other  hazy  projects  down  in  Bevisham. 

"  Lydiard  tells  me  he  has  a  very  sound  idea  of  the  value 
of  money,  and  has  actually  made  money  by  cattle  breeding; 
but  he  has  flung  ten  thousand  pounds  on  a  single  building 
outside  the  town,  and  he  '11  have  to  endow  it  to  support  it 
—  a  Club  to  educate  Eadicals.  The  fact  is,  he  wants  to 
jam  the  business  of  two  or  three  centuries  into  a  lifetime. 
These  men  of  their  so-called  progress  are  like  the  majority 
of  religious  minds .  they  can't  believe  without  seeing  and 
touching.  That  is  to  say,  they  don't  believe  in  the  abstract 
at  all,  but  they  go  to  work  blindly  by  agitating,  and  pros- 
elytizing, and  persecuting  to  get  together  a  mass  they  can 
believe  in.  You  see  it  in  their  way  of  arguing;  it 's  half 
done  with  the  fist.  Lydiard  tells  me  he  left  him  last  in 
a  horrible  despondency  about  progress.  Ha!  ha!  Beau- 
champ 's  no  Eadical.  He  has  n't  forgiven  the  Countess  of 
Romfrejr  for  marrying  above  her  rank.  He  may  be  a  bit 
of  a  Kepublican:  but  really  in  this  country  Republicans 
are  fighting  with  the  shadow  of  an  old  hat  and  a  cockhorse. 
I  beg  to  state  that  I  have  a  reverence  for  constituted 
authority:  I  speak  of  what  those  fellows  are  contending 
with." 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EAEL  459 

"Eight,"  said  Colonel  Halkett.  "But  'the  shadow  of 
an  old  hat  and  a  cock-horse :  '  what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"That 's  what  our  Republicans  are  hitting  at,  sir." 

"Ah!  so;  yes,"  quoth  the  colonel.  "And  I  say  this  to 
Nevil  Beauchamp,  that  what  we  Ve  grown  up  well  with, 
powerfully  with,  it 's  base  ingratitude  and  dangerous  folly 
to  throw  over." 

He  blamed  Beauchamp  for  ingratitude  to  the  countess, 
who  had,  he  affirmed  of  his  own  knowledge,  married  Lord 
Romfrey  to  protect  Beauchamp's  interests. 

A  curious  comment  on  this  allegation  was  furnished  by 
the  announcement  of  the  earPs  expectations  of  a  son  and 
heir.  The  earl  wrote  to  Colonel  Halkett  from  Romfrey 
Castle  inviting  him  to  come  and  spend  some  time  there. 

"Now,  that  ^s  brave  news!  "  the  colonel  exclaimed. 

He  proposed  a  cruise  round  by  the  Cornish  coast  to  the 
Severn,  and  so  to  Romfrey  Castle,  to  squeeze  the  old 
lord's  hand  and  congratulate  him  with  all  his  heart. 
Cecilia  was  glad  to  acquiesce,  for  an  expedition  of  any 
description  was  a  lull  in  the  storm  that  hummed  about  her 
ears  in  the  peace  of  home,  where  her  father  would  perpet- 
ually speak  of  the  day  to  be  fixed.  Sailing  the  sea  on  a 
cruise  was  like  the  gazing  at  wonderful  colours  of  a  West- 
ern sky:  an  oblivion  of  earthly  dates  and  obligations. 
What  mattered  it  that  there  were  gales  in  August  ?  She 
loved  the  sea,  and  the  stinging  salt  spray,  and  circling  gull 
and  plunging  gannet,  the  sun  on  the  waves,  and  the  torn 
cloud.  The  revelling  libertine  open  sea  wedded  her  to 
Beauchamp  in  that  veiled  cold  spiritual  manner  she  could 
muse  on  as  a  circumstance  out  of  her  life. 

Fair  companies  of  racing  yachts  were  left  behind.  The 
gales  of  August  mattered  frightfully  to  poor  Blackburn 
Tuckham,  who  was  to  be  dropped  at  a  town  in  South 
Wales,  and  descended  greenish  to  his  cabin  as  soon  as  they 
had  crashed  on  the  first  wall-waves  of  the.  chalk-race,  a 
throw  beyond  the  peaked  cliffs  edged  with  cormorants,  and 
were  really  tasting  sea.  Cecilia  reclined  on  deck,  wrapped 
in  shawl  and  waterproof.  As  the  Alpine  climber  claims 
the  upper  air,  she  had  the  wild  sea  to  herself  through 
her  love  of  it;  quite  to  herself.  It  was  delicious  to  look 
round  and  ahead,  and  the  perturbation  was  just  enough  to 


460  BEAtrCHAMP^S  CAREER 

preserve  her  from  thoughts  too  deep  inward  in  a  scene 
where  the  ghost  of  Nevil  was  abroad. 

The  hard  dry  gale  increased.  Her  father,  stretched 
beside  her,  drew  her  attention  to  a  small  cutter  under 
double-reefed  main-sail  and  small  jib  on  the  Esperanza^s 
weather  bow  —  a  gallant  boat  carefully  handled.  She 
watched  it  with  some  anxiety,  but  the  Esperanza  was 
bound  for  a  Devon  bay,  and  bore  away  from  the  black 
Dorsetshire  headland,  leaving  the  little  cutter  to  run  into 
haven  if  she  pleased.  The  passing  her  was  no  event.  —  In 
a  representation  of  the  common  events  befalling  us  in 
these  times,  upon  an  appreciation  of  which  this  history 
depends,  one  turns  at  whiles  a  languishing  glance  toward 
the  vast  potential  mood,  pluperfect  tense.  For  Nevil 
Beauchamp  was  on  board  the  cutter,  steering  her,  with  Dr. 
Shrapnel  and  Lydiard  in  the  well,  and  if  an  accident  had 
happened  to  cutter  or  schooner,  what  else  might  not  have 
happened?  Cecilia  gathered  it  from  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux,  whom,  to  her  surprise  and  pleasure,  she  found 
at  Komfrey  Castle.  Her  friend  Louise  received  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Lydiard,  containing  a  literary  amateur  seaman^s 
log  of  a  cruise  of  a  fifteen-ton  cutter  in  a  gale,  and  a  pure 
literary  sketch  of  Beauchamp  standing  drenched  at  the 
helm  from  five  in  the  morning  up  to  nine  at  night,  munch- 
ing a  biscuit  for  nourishment.  The  beautiful  widow  pre- 
pared the  way  for  what  was  very  soon  to  be  publicly  known 
concerning  herself  by  reading  out  this  passage  of  her  cor- 
respondent's letter  in  the  breakfast  room. 

"Yes,  the  fellow  's  a  sailor!  "  said  Lord  Komfrey. 

The  countess  rose  from  her  chair  and  walked  out. 

"Now,  was  that  abuse  of  the  fellow?"  the  old  lord 
asked  Colonel  Halkett.  "I  said  he  was  a  sailor,  I  said 
nothing  else.  He  is  a  sailor,  and  he 's  fit  for  nothing 
else,  and  no  ship  will  he  get  unless  he  bends  his  neck: 
never  's  nearer  it." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  went  after  his  wife. 

Cecilia  sat  with  the  countess,  in  the  afternoon,  at  a 
window  overlooking  the  swelling  woods  of  Eomfrey.  She 
praised  the  loveliness  of  the  view. 

"It  is  fire  to  me,"  said  Kosamund. 

Cecilia  looked  at  her,  startled.     Rosamund  said  no  more. 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EARL  461 

She  was  an  excellent  hostess,  nevertheless,  unpretending 
and  simple  in  company;  and  only  when  it  chanced  that 
Beauchamp's  name  was  mentioned  did  she  cast  that  quick 
supplicating  nervous  glance  at  the  earl,  with  a  shadow  of 
an  elevation  of  her  shoulders,  as  if  in  apprehension  of 
mordant  pain. 

We  will  make  no  mystery  about  it.  I  would  I  could. 
Those  happy  tales  of  mystery  are  as  much  my  envy  as  the 
popular  narratives  of  the  deeds  of  bread  and  cheese  people, 
for  they  both  create  a  tide-way  in  the  attentive  mind;  the 
mysterious  pricking  our  credulous  flesh  to  creep,  the 
familiar  urging  our  obese  imagination  to  constitutional 
exercise.  And  oh,  the  refreshment  there  is  in  dealing 
with  characters  either  contemptibly  beneath  us  or  super- 
naturally  above!  My  way  is  like  a  Rhone  island  in  the 
summer  drought,  stony,  unattractive  and  difficult  between 
the  two  forceful  streams  of  the  unreal  and  the  over-real, 
which  delight  mankind  —  honour  to  the  conjurers!  My 
people  conquer  nothing,  win  none;  they  are  actual,  yet 
uncommon.  It  is  the  clock-work  of  the  brain  that  they 
are  directed  to  set  in  motion,  and  —  poor  troop  of  actors  to 
vacant  benches !  —  the  conscience  residing  in  thoughtful- 
ness  which  they  would  appeal  to;  and  if  you  are  there 
impervious  to  them,  we  are  lost :  back  I  go  to  my  wilder- 
ness, where,  as  you  perceive,  I  have  contracted  the  habit 
of  listening  to  my  own  voice  more  than  is  good :  — 

The  burden  of  a  child  in  her  bosom  had  come  upon 
Eosamund  with  the  visage  of  the  Angel  of  Death  fronting 
her  in  her  path.  She  believed  that  she  would  die;  but 
like  much  that  we  call  belief,  tliere  was  a  kernel  of  doubt 
in  it,  which  was  lively  when  her  frame  was  enlivened,  and 
she  then  thought  of  the  giving  birth  to  this  unloved  child, 
which  was  to  disinherit  the  man  she  loved,  in  whose  inter- 
est solely  (so  she  could  presume  to  think,  because  it  had 
been  her  motive  reason)  she  had  married  the  earl.  She 
had  no  wish  to  be  a  mother;  but  that  prospect,  and  the 
dread  attaching  to  it  at  her  time  of  life,  she  could  have 
submitted  to  for  Lord  Romfrey's  sake.  It  struck  her  like 
a  scoffer's  blow  that  she,  the  one  woman  on  earth  loving 
Nevil,  should  have  become  the  instrument  for  dispossessing 
him.     The  revulsion  of  her  feelings  enlightened  her  so  far 


462  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREEB 

as  to  suggest,  without  enabling  her  to  fathom  him,  that 
instead  of  having  cleverly  swayed  Lord  Romfrey,  she  had 
been  his  diipe,  or  a  blind  accomplice;  and  though  she  was 
too  humane  a  woman  to  think  of  punishing  him,  she  had 
so  much  to  forgive  that  the  trifles  daily  and  at  any  instant 
added  to  the  load,  flushed  her  resentment,  like  fresh  lights 
showing  new  features  and  gigantic  outlines.  Nevil's  loss 
of  Cecilia  she  had  anticipated ;  she  had  heard  of  it  when 
she  was  lying  in  physical  and  mental  apathy  at  Steynham. 
Lord  Eomfrey  had  repeated  to  her  the  nature  of  his  replies 
to  the  searching  parental  questions  of  Colonel  Halkett, 
and  having  foreseen  it  all ,  and  what  was  more,  foretold  it, 
she  was  not  aroused  from  her  torpor.  Latterly,  with  the 
return  of  her  natural  strength,  she  had  shown  herself  inca- 
pable of  hearing  her  husband  speak  of  Nevil;  nor  was  the 
earl  tardy  in  taking  the  hint  to  spare  the  mother  of  his 
child  allusions  that  vexed  her.  Now  and  then  they 
occurred  perforce.  The  presence  of  Cecilia  exasperated 
Rosamund's  peculiar  sensitiveness.  It  required  Louise 
Wardour-Devereux's  apologies  and  interpretations  to 
account  for  what  appeared  to  Cecilia  strangely  ill- 
conditioned,  if  not  insane,  in  Lady  Romfrey 's  behaviour. 
The  most  astonishing  thing  to  hear  was,  that  Lady  Rom- 
frey had  paid  Mrs.  Devereux  a  visit  at  her  Surrey  house 
unexpectedly  one  Sunday  in  the  London  season,  for  the 
purpose,  as  it  became  evident,  of  meeting  Mr.  Blackburn 
Tuckham :  and  how  she  could  have  known  that  Mr.  Tuck- 
ham  would  be  there,  Mrs.  Devereux  could  not  tell,  for  it 
was,  Louise  assured  Cecilia,  purely  by  chance  that  he  and 
Mr.  Lydiard  were  present:  but  the  countess  obtained  an 
interview  with  him  alone,  and  Mr.  Tuckham  came  from  it 
declaring  it  to  have  been  more  terrible  than  any  he  had 
ever  been  called  upon  to  endure.  The  object  of  the  coun- 
tess was  to  persuade  him  to  renounce  his  bride. 

Louise  replied  to  the  natural  inquiry  — ''  Upon  what 
plea  ?  "  with  a  significant  evasiveness.  She  put  her  arms 
round  Cecilia's  neck :  "  I  trust  you  are  not  unhappy.  You 
will  get  no  release  from  him." 

"I  am  not  unhappy,"  said  Cecilia,  musically  clear  to 
convince  her  friend. 

She  was  indeed  glad  to  feel  the  stout  chains  of  her 


TRIAL   AWAITING   THE  EARL  463 

anchor  restraining  her  when  Lady  Komfrey  talked  of 
Nevil;  they  were  like  the  safety  of  marriage  without  the 
dreaded  ceremony,  and  with  solitude  to  let  her  weep. 
Bound  thus  to  a  weaker  man  than  Blackburn  Tuckham, 
though  he  had  been  more  warmly  esteemed,  her  fancy 
would  have  drifted  away  over  the  deeps,  perhaps  her  cher- 
ished loyalty  would  have  drowned  in  her  tears  —  for  Lady 
Romfrey  tasked  it  very  severely :  but  he  from  whom  she 
could  hope  for  no  release,  gave  her  some  of  the  firmness 
which  her  nature  craved  in  this  trial. 

From  saying  quietly  to  her,  "  I  thought  once  you  loved 
him,"  when  alluding  to  Nevil,  Lady  Romfrey  passed  to 
mournful  exclamations,  and  by  degrees  on  to  direct  entrea- 
ties. She  related  the  whole  story  of  Renee  in  England, 
and  appeared  distressed  with  a  desperate  wonderment  at 
Cecilia's  mildness  after  hearing  it.  Her  hearer  would 
have  imagined  that  she  had  no  moral  sense,  if  it  had  not 
been  so  perceptible  that  the  poor  lady's  mind  was  distem- 
pered on  the  one  subject  of  Nevil  Beauchamp.  Cecilia's 
high  conception  of  duty,  wherein  she  was  a  peerless  flower 
of  our  English  civilization,  was  incommunicable:  she  could 
practise,  not  explain  it.  She  bowed  to  Lady  Romfrey 's 
praises  of  Nevil,  suffered  her  hands  to  be  wrung,  her  heart 
to  be  touched,  all  but  an  avowal  of  her  love  of  him  to  be 
wrested  from  her,  and  not  the  less  did  she  retain  her  cold 
resolution  to  marry  to  please  her  father  and  fulfil  her 
pledge.  In  truth,  it  was  too  late  to  speak  of  Renee  to  her 
now.  It  did  not  beseem  Cecilia  to  remember  that  she  had 
ever  been  a  victim  of  jealousy;  and  while  confessing  to 
many  errors,  because  she  felt  them,  and  gained  a  neces- 
sary strength  from  them,  —  in  the  comfort  of  the  conscious- 
ness of  pain,  for  example,  which  she  sorely  needed,  that 
the  pain  in  her  own  breast  might  deaden  her  to  Nevil's,  — 
jealousy,  the  meanest  of  the  errors  of  a  lofty  soul,  yielded 
no  extract  beyond  the  bare  humiliation  proper  to  an  ac- 
knowledgement that  it  had  existed :  so  she  discarded  the 
recollection  of  the  passion  which  had  wrought  the  mis- 
chief. Since  we  cannot  have  a  peerless  flower  of  civiliza- 
tion without  artificial  aid,  it  may  be  understood  how  it 
was  that  Cecilia  could  extinguish  some  lights  in  her  mind 
and  kindle  others,  and  wherefore  what  it  was  not  natural 


464  BEAUCHAMP'S   CABEER 

for  her  to  do,  she  did.     She  had,  briefly,  a  certain  control 
of  herself. 

Our  common  readings  in  the  fictitious  romances  which 
mark  out  a  plot  and  measure  their  characters  to  fit  into  it, 
had  made  Eosamund  hopeful  of  the  effect  of  that  story  of 
Eenee.  A  wooden  young  woman,  or  a  galvanized  (sweet 
to  the  writer,  either  of  them,  as  to  the  reader  —  so  move- 
able they  are!)  would  have  seen  her  business  at  this 
point,  and  have  glided  melting  to  reconciliation  and  the 
chamber  where  romantic  fiction  ends  joyously.  Eosamund 
had  counted  on  it. 

She  looked  intently  at  Cecilia.  *'  He  is  ruined,  wasted, 
ill,  unloved ;  he  has  lost  you  —  I  am  the  cause  !  "  she  cried 
in  a  convulsion  of  grief. 

"Dear  Lady  Eomfrey!  "  Cecilia  would  have  consoled 
her.  "  There  is  nothing  to  lead  us  to  suppose  that  Nevil 
is  unwell,  and  you  are  not  to  blame  for  anything:  how 
can  you  be  ?  "        ' 

''  I  spoke  falsely  of  Dr.  Shrapnel ;  I  am  the  cause.  It 
lies  on  me!  it  pursues  me.  Let  me  give  to  the  poor  as  I 
may,  and  feel  for  the  poor,  as  I  do,  to  get  nearer  to  Nevil 
—  I  cannot  have  peace !  His  heart  has  turned  from  me. 
He  despises  me.  If  I  had  spoken  to  Lord  Eomfrey  at 
Steynham,  as  he  commanded  me,  you  and  he —  Oh!  cow- 
ardice: he  is  right,  cowardice  is  the  chief  evil  in  the  world. 
He  is  ill;  he  is  desperately  ill;  he  will  die." 

"  Have  you  heard  he  is  very  ill ,  Lady  Eomfrey  ?  " 

"  No !  no  !  "  Eosamund  exclaimed ;  "  it  is  by  not  hearing 
that  I  know  it !  " 

With  the  assistance  of  Louise  Devereux,  Cecilia  gradu- 
ally awakened  to  what  was  going  on  in  the  house.  There 
had  been  a  correspondence  between  Miss  Denham  and  the 
countess.  Letters  from  Bevisham  had  suddenly  ceased. 
Presumably  the  earl  had  stopped  them :  and  if  so  it  must 
have  been  for  a  tragic  reason. 

Cecilia  hinted  some  blame  of  Lord  Eomfrey  to  her 
father. 

He  pressed  her  hand  and  said :  "  You  don't  know  what 
that  man  suffers.  Eomfrey  is  fond  of  Nevil  too,  but  he 
must  guard  his  wife;  and  the  fact  is  Nevil  is  down  with 
fever.     It 's  in  the  papers  now ;  he  may  be  able  to  conceal 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EARL  465 

it,  and  I  hope  tie  will.  There  '11  be  a  crisis,  and  then  he 
can  tell  her  good  news  —  a  little  illness  and  all  right  now ! 
Of  course,"  the  colonel  continued  buoyantly,  "Nevil  will 
recover;  he  's  a  tough  wiry  young  fellow,  but  poor  Kom- 
frey's  fears  are  natural  enough  about  the  countess.  Her 
mind  seems  to  be  haunted  by  the  doctor  there  —  Shrapnel, 
I  mean;  and  she  's  excitable  to  a  degree  that  threatens  the 
worst  —  in  case  of  any  accident  in  Bevisham." 

"  Is  it  not  a  kind  of  cowardice  to  conceal  it  ? "  Cecilia 
suggested. 

"It  saves  her  from  fretting,"  said  the  colonel. 

"But  she  is  fretting  !  If  Lord  Romfrey  would  confide  in 
her  and  trust  to  her  courage,  papa,,  it  would  be  best." 

Colonel  Halkett  thought  that  Lord  Bomfrey  was  the 
judge. 

Cecilia  wished  to  leave  a  place  where  this  visible  torture 
of  a  human  soul  was  proceeding,  and  to  no  purpose.  She 
pointed  out  to  her  father,  by  a  variety  of  signs,  that  Lady 
Romfrey  either  knew  or  suspected  the  state  of  affairs  in 
Bevisham,  and  repeated  her  remarks  upon  Nevil's  illness. 
But  Colonel  Halkett  was  restrained  from  departing  by  the 
earPs  constant  request  to  him  to  stay.  Old  friendship 
demanded  it  of  him.  He  began  to  share  his  daughter's 
feelings  at  the  sight  of  Lady  Romfrey.  She  was  outwardly 
patient  and  submissive ;  by  nature  she  was  a  strong  healthy 
woman;  and  she  attended  to  all  her  husband's  prescrip- 
tions for  the  regulating  of  her  habits,  walked  with  him, 
lay  down  for  the  afternoon's  rest,  appeared  amused  when 
he  laboured  to  that  effect,  and  did  her  utmost  to  subdue 
the  worm  devouring  her  heart:  but  the  hours  of  the 
delivery  of  the  letter-post  were  fatal  to  her.  Her  woeful 
"No  letter  for  me!  "  was  piteous.  When  that  was  heard 
no  longer,  her  silence  and  famished  gaze  chilled  Cecilia. 
At  night  Rosamund  eyed  her  husband  expressionlessly, 
with  her  head  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  to  the  sorrow  of 
the  ladies  beholding  her.  Ultimately  the  contagion  of 
her  settled  misery  took  hold  of  Cecilia.  Colonel  Halkett 
was  induced  by  his  daughter  and  Mrs.  Devereux  to 
endeavour  to  combat  a  system  that  threatened  consequences 
worse  than  those  it  was  planned  to  avert.  He  by  this  time 
was  aware  of  the  serious  character  of  the  malady  which  had 

80 


466  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

prostrated  Nevil.  Lord  E-omfrey  had  directed  his  own 
medical  man  to  go  down  to  Bevisham,  and  Dr.  Gannet's 
report  of  Nevil  was  grave.  The  colonel  made  light  of  it  to 
his  daughter,  after  the  fashion  he  condemned  in  Lord 
Komfrey,  to  whom  however  he  spoke  earnestly  of  the 
necessity  for  partially  taking  his  wife  into  his  confidence: 
to  the  extent  of  letting  her  know  that  a  slight  fever  was 
running  its  course  with  Nevil. 

"That  will  be  no  slight  fever  in  my  wife's  blood/'  said 
the  earl.  "I  stand  to  weather  the  cape  or  run  to  wreck, 
and  it  won't  do  to  be  taking  in  reefs  on  a  lee-shore.  You 
don't  see  what  frets  her,  colonel.  For  years  she  has  been 
bent  on  Nevil's  marriage.  It's  off:  but  if  you  catch 
Cecilia  by  the  hand  and  bring  her  to  us  —  I  swear  she 
loves  the  fellow  !  —  that 's  the  medicine  for  my  wife. 
Say :  will  you  do  it  ?  Tell  Lady  Eomf rey  it  shall  be  done. 
We  shall  stand  upright  again !  " 

"I'm  afraid  that's  impossible,  Eomf  rey,"  said  the 
colonel. 

"Play  at  it,  then!  Let  her  think  it.  You're  helping 
me  treat  an  invalid.  Colonel!  my  old  friend!  You  save 
my  house  and  name  if  you  do  that.  It 's  a  hand  round  a 
candle  in  a  burst  of  wind.  There  's  Nevil  dragged  by  a 
woman  into  one  of  their  reeking  hovels  —  so  that  Miss 
Denham  at  Shrapnel's  writes  to  Lady  Eomf  rey  —  because 
the  woman's  drunken  husband  voted  for  him  at  the  Elec- 
tion, and  was  knocked  out  of  employment,  and  fell  upon 
the  gin-bottle,  and  the  brats  of  the  den  died  starving,  and 
the  man  sickened  of  a  fever;  and  Nevil  goes  in  and  sits 
with  him!  Out  of  that  tangle  of  folly  is  my  house  to 
be  struck  down  ?  It  looks  as  if  the  fellow,  with  his  in- 
fernal '  humanity,'  were  the  bad  genius  of  an  old  nurse's 
tale.  He  's  a  good  fellow,  colonel,  he  means  well.  This 
fever  will  cure  him,  they  say  it  sobers  like  blood-letting. 
He  's  a  gallant  fellow;  you  know  that.  He  fought  to  the 
skeleton  in  our  last  big  war.  On  my  soul,  I  believe  he  's 
good  for  a  husband.  Frenchwoman  or  not,  that  affair  's 
over.  He  shall  have  Steynham  and  Holdesbury.  Can  I 
say  more  ?  Now,  colonel,  you  go  in  to  the  countess. 
Grasp  my  hand.  Give  me  that  help,  and  God  bless  you! 
Yqvl  light  up  mj  old  days.     She  's  a  noble  woman :  I  would 


TRIAL  AWAITING  THE  EARL  467 

not  change  her  against  the  best  in  the  land.  She  has  this 
craze  about  Nevil.  I  suppose  she  '11  never  get  over  it. 
But  there  it  is:  and  we  must  feed  her  with  the  spoon." 

Colonel  Halkett  argued  stutteringly  with  the  powerful 
man:  "It 's  the  truth  she  ought  to  hear,  Eomfrey;  indeed 
it  is,  if  you  '11  believe  me.  It 's  his  life  she  is  fearing  for. 
She  knows  half." 

"  She  knows  positively  nothing,  colonel.  Miss  Denham's 
lirst  letter  spoke  of  the  fellow's  having  headaches,  and 
staggering.  He  was  out  on  a  cruise,  and  saw  your 
schooner  pass,  and  put  into  some  port,  and  began  falling 
right  and  left,  and  they  got  him  back  to  Shrapnel's :  and 
here  it  is  —  that  if  you  go  to  him  you  '11  save  him,  and  if 
you  go  to  my  wife  you  '11  save  her:  and  there  you  have  it: 
and  I  ask  my  old  friend,  I  beg  him  to  go  to  them  both." 

"But  you  can't  surely  expect  me  to  force  my  daughter's 
inclinations,  my  dear  Romfrey  ?  " 

"  Cecilia  loves  the  fellow  !  " 

"She  is  engaged  to  Mr.  Tuckham." 

"I  '11  see  the  man  Tuckham." 

"  Really,  my  dear  lord !  " 

"Play  at  it,  Halkett,  play  at  it!  Tide  us  over  this! 
Talk  to  her :  hint  it  and  nod  it.  We  have  to  round  Novem- 
ber. I  could  strangle  the  world  till  that  month  's  past. 
You  '11  own,"  he  added  mildly  after  his  thunder,  "  I  'm  not 
much  of  the  despot  Nevil  calls  me.  She  has  not  a  wish  I 
don't  supply.  I  'm  at  her  beck,  and  everything  that 's 
mine.  She  's  a  brave  good  woman.  I  don't  complain.  I 
run  my  chance.  But  if  we  lose  the  child  —  good  night ! 
Boy  or  girl !  —  boy  I  " 

Lord  Eomfrey  flung  an  arm  up.  The  child  of  his  old 
age  lived  for  him  already :  he  gave  it  all  the  life  he  had. 
This  miracle,  this  young  son  springing  up  on  an  earth 
decaying  and  dark,  absorbed  him.  This  reviver  of  his 
ancient  line  must  not  be  lost.  Perish  every  consideration 
to  avert  it  1  He  was  ready  to  fear,  love,  or  hate  terribly, 
according  to  the  prospects  of  his  child. 

Colonel  Halkett  was  obliged  to  enter  into  a  consulta- 
tion, of  a  shadowy  sort,  with  his  daughter,  whose  only 
advice  was  that  they  should  leave  the  castle.  The  pene- 
trable gloom  there,  and  the  growing  apprehension  concern- 


468  BBAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

ing  the  countess  and  Nevil,  tore  her  to  pieces.  Even  if 
she  could  have  conspired  with  the  earl  to  hoodwink  his 
wife,  her  strong  sense  told  her  it  would  be  fruitless,  be- 
sides base.  Father  and  daughter  had  to  make  the  stand 
against  Lord  Romfrey.  He  saw  their  departure  from  the 
castle  gates,  and  kissed  his  hand  to  Cecilia,  courteously, 
without  a  smile. 

"He  may  well  praise  the  countess,  papa,"  said  Cecilia, 
while  they  were  looking  back  at  the  castle  and  the  moveless 
flag  that  hung  in  folds  by  the  mast  above  it.  "  She  has 
given  me  her  promise  to  avoid  questioning  him  and  to 
accept  his  view  of  her  duty.  She  said  to  me  that  if  Nevil 
should  die  she  ..." 

Cecilia  herself  broke  down,  and  gave  way  to  sobs  in  her 
father's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

A   FABRIC    OF    BARONIAL   DESPOTISM   CRUMBLES 

The  earPs  precautions  did  duty  night  and  day  in  all  the 
avenues  leading  to  the  castle  and  his  wife's  apartments ; 
and  he  could  believe  that  he  had  undertaken  as  good  a 
defence  as  the  mountain  guarding  the  fertile  vale  from 
storms:  but  him  the  elements  pelted  heavily.  Letters 
from  acquaintances  of  Nevil,  from  old  shipmates  and  from 
queer  political  admirers  and  opponents,  hailed  on  him; 
things  not  to  be  frigidly  read  were  related  of  the  fellow. 

Lord  Romfrey's  faith  in  the  power  of  constitution  to 
beat  disease  battled  sturdily  with  the  daily  reports  of  his 
physician  and  friends,  whom  he  had  directed  to  visit  the 
cottage  on  the  common  outside  Bevisham,  and  with  Miss 
Denham's  intercepted  letters  to  the  countess.  Still  he 
had  to  calculate  on  the  various  injuries  Nevil  had  done  to 
his  constitution,  which  had  made  of  him  another  sort  of 
man  for  a  struggle  of  life  and  death  than  when  he  stood 
like  a  riddled  flag  through  the  war.  That  latest  freak  of 
the  fellow's,  the  abandonment  of  our  natural  and  whole- 
some sustenance  in  animal  food,  was  to  be  taken  in  the 


BARONIAL   DESPOTISM   CRUMBLES  469 

reckoning.  Dr.  Gannet  did  not  allude  to  it;  the  Bevisham 
doctor  did ;  and  the  earl  meditated  with  a  fury  of  wrath  on 
the  dismal  chance  that  such  a  folly  as  this  of  one  old  vege- 
table idiot  influencing  a  younger  noodle,  might  strike  his 
House  to  the  dust. 

His  watch  over  his  wife  had  grown  mechanical:  he 
failed  to  observe  that  her  voice  was  missing.  She  rarely 
spoke.  He  lost  the  art  of  observing  himself:  the  wrink- 
ling up  and  dropping  of  his  brows  became  his  habitual 
language.  So  long  as  he  had  not  to  meet  inquiries  or  face 
tears,  he  enjoyed  the  sense  of  security.  He  never  quitted 
his  wife  save  to  walk  to  the  Southern  park  lodge,  where 
letters  and  telegrams  were  piled  awaiting  him;  and  she 
was  forbidden  to  take  the  air  on  the  castle  terrace  without 
his  being  beside  her,  lest  a  whisper,  some  accident  of  the 
kind  that  donkeys  who  nod  over  their  drowsy  nose-length- 
ahead  precautions  call  fatality,  should  rouse  her  to  suspect, 
and  in  a  turn  of  the  hand  undo  his  labour :  for  the  race  was 
getting  terrible :  Death  had  not  yet  stepped  out  of  that  evil 
chamber  in  Dr.  Shrapnel's  cottage  to  aim  his  javelin  at  the 
bosom  containing  the  prized  young  life  to  come,  but,  like 
the  smoke  of  waxing  fire,  he  shadowed  forth  his  presence 
in  wreaths  blacker  and  thicker  day  by  day :  and  Everard 
Romfrey  knew  that  the  hideous  beast  of  darkness  had  only 
to  spring  up  and  pass  his  guard  to  deal  a  blow  to  his  House 
the  direr  from  all  he  supposed  himself  to  have  gained 
by  masking  it  hitherto.  The  young  life  he  looked  to  for 
renewal  swallowed  him :  he  partly  lost  human  feeling  for 
his  wife  in  the  tremendous  watch  and  strain  to  hurry  her 
as  a  vessel  round  the  dangerous  headland.  He  was  obliv- 
ious that  his  eyebrows  talked,  that  his  head  was  bent  low, 
that  his  mouth  was  shut,  and  that  where  a  doubt  has  been 
sown,  silence  and  such  signs  are  like  revelations  in  black 
night  to  the  spirit  of  a  woman  who  loves. 

One  morning  after  breakfast  Rosamund  hung  on  his  arm , 
eyeing  him  neither  questioningly  nor  invitingly,  but  long. 
He  kissed  her  forehead.  She  clung  to  him  and  closed  her 
eyes,  showing  him  a  face  of  slumber,  like  a  mask  of  the 
dead. 

Mrs.  Devereux  was  present.  Cecilia  had  entreated  her 
to  stay  with  Lady  Romfrey.     She  stole  away,  for  the  time 


470  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

had  come  which  any  close  observer  of  the  countess  must 
have  expected. 

The  earl  lifted  his  wife,  and  carried  her  to  her  sitting- 
room.  A  sunless  weltering  September  day  whipped  the 
window-panes  and  brought  the  roar  of  the  beaten  woods 
to  her  ears.  He  was  booted  and  gaitered  for  his  customary 
walk  to  the  park  lodge,  and  as  he  bent  a  knee  beside  her, 
she  murmured:  "Don't  wait;  return  soon." 

He  placed  a  cord  attached  to  the  bellrope  within  her 
reach.  This  utter  love  of  Nevil  Beauchamp  was  beyond 
his  comprehension,  but  there  it  was,  and  he  had  to  submit 
to  it  and  manoeuvre.  His  letters  and  telegrams  told  the 
daily  tale.  "  He  's  better,"  said  the  earl,  preparing  himself 
to  answer  what  his  wife's  look  had  warned  him  would 
come. 

She  was  an  image  of  peace,  in  the  same  posture  on  the 
couch  where  he  had  left  her,  when  he  returned.  She  did 
not  open  her  eyes,  but  felt  about  for  his  hand,  and,  touch- 
ing it,  she  seemed  to  weigh  the  fingers. 

At  last  she  said:  "The  fever  should  be  at  its  height." 

"Why,  my  dear  brave  girl,  what  ails  you  ?  "  said  he. 

"Ignorance." 

She  raised  her  eyelids.  His  head  was  bent  down  over 
her,  like  a  raven's  watching,  a  picture  of  gravest  vigilance. 

Her  bosom  rose  and  sank.  "What  has  Miss  Denham 
written  to-day?" 

"  To-day  ?  "  he  asked  her  gently. 

"I  shall  bear  it,"  she  answered.  "You  were  my  master 
before  you  were  my  husband.  I  bear  anything  you  think 
is  good  for  my  government.  Only,  my  ignorance  is  fever; 
I  share  Nevil's." 

"  Have  you  been  to  my  desk  at  all  ?  " 

'*No.  I  read  your  eyes  and  your  hands:  T  have  been 
living  on  them.  To-day  I  find  that  I  have  not  gained  by 
it,  as  I  hoped  I  should.  Ignorance  kills  me.  I  really 
have  courage  to  bear  to  hear  —  just  at  this  moment  I 
have." 

"There  's  no  bad  news,  my  love,"  said  the  earl. 

"High  fever,  is  it?" 

"  The  usual  fever.  Gannet  's  with  him.  I  sent  for  Gan- 
net  to  go  there,  to  satisfy  you," 


BARONIAL  DESPOTISM  CRUMBLES  471 

*'Nevil  is  not  dead  ?" 

"Lord!  ma'am,  my  dear  soul !  " 

"He  is  alive?" 

^' Quite:  certainly  alive;  as  much  alive  as  I  am;  only 
going  a  little  faster,  as  fellows  do  in  the  jumps  of  a  fever. 
The  best  doctor  in  England  is  by  his  bed.  He  's  doing 
fairly.  You  should  have  let  me  know  you  were  fretting, 
my  Kosamund." 

"I  did  not  wish  to  tempt  you  to  lie,  my  dear  lord." 

"Well,  there  are  times  when  a  woman  ...  as  you 
are :  but  you  're  a  brave  woman,  a  strong  heart,  and  my 
wife.  You  want  some  one  to  sit  with  you,  don't  you? 
Louise  Devereux  is  a  pleasaut  person,  but  you  want  a  man 
to  amuse  you.  I  'd  have  sent  to  Stukely,  but  you  want  a 
serious  man,  I  fancy." 

So  much  had  the  earl  been  thrown  out  of  his  plan  for 
protecting  his  wife,  that  he  felt  helpless,  and  hinted  at  the 
aids  and  comforts  of  religion.  He  had  not  rejected  the 
official  Church,  and  regarding  it  now  as  in  alliance  with 
great  Houses,  he  considered  that  its  ministers  might  also 
be  useful  to  the  troubled  women  of  noble  families.  He 
offered,  if  she  pleased,  to  call  in  the  rector  to  sit  with  her 
—  the  bishop  of  the  diocese,  if  she  liked. 

"But  just  as  you  like,  my  love,"  he  added.  "You  know 
you  have  to  avoid  fretting.  I  've  heard  my  sisters  talk  of 
the  parson  doing  them  good  off  and  on  about  the  time  of 
their  being  brought  to  bed.  He  elevated  their  minds,  they 
said.  T  'm  sure  I  've  no  objection.  If  he  can  doctor  the 
minds  of  women  he  's  got  a  profession  worth  something." 

Kosamund  smothered  an  outcry.  "  You  mean  that  Nevil 
is  past  hope ! " 

"Not  if  he  's  got  a  fair  half  of  our  blood  in  him.  And 
Eichard  Beauchamp  gave  the  fellow  good  stock.  He  has 
about  the  best  blood  in  England.  That 's  not  saying  much 
when  they  've  taken  to  breed  as  they  build  —  stuff  to  keep 
the  plasterers  at  work ;  devil  a  thought  of  posterity !  " 

"There  I  see  you  and  Nevil  one,  my  dear  lord,"  said 
Rosamund.  "You  think  of  those  that  are  to  follow  us. 
Talk  to  me  of  him.  Do  not  say,  '  the  fellow.'  Say 
*  Nevil.'  No,  no;  call  him  '  the  fellow.'  He  was  alive 
and    well  when  you  used  to  say  it.     But  smile   kindly, 


472  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

as  if  he  made  you  love  him  down  in  your  heart,  in  spite 
of  you.  We  have  both  known  that  love,  and  that  opposi- 
tion to  him;  not  liking  his  ideas,  yet  liking  him  so:  we 
were  obliged  to  laugh  —  I  have  seen  you !  as  love  does 
laugh!  If  I  am  not  crying  over  his  grave,  Everard? 
Oh!" 

The  earl  smoothed  her  forehead.  All  her  suspicions 
were  rekindled.  "Truth!  truth!  give  me  truth!  Let  me 
know  what  world  I  am  in  !  " 

"My  dear,  a  ship  's  not  lost  because  she  's  caught  in  a 
squall ;  nor  a  man  buffeting  the  waves  for  an  hour.  He  's 
all  right:  he  keeps  up." 

"  He  is  delirious  ?  I  ask  you  —  I  have  fancied  I  heard 
him." 

Lord  Romf rey  puffed  from  his  nostrils :  but  in  affecting 
to  blow  to  the  winds  her  foolish  woman's  wildness  of 
fancy,  his  mind  rested  on  Nevil,  and  he  said:  "Poor 
boy  !     It  seems  he  's  chattering  hundreds  to  the  minute." 

His  wife's  looks  alarmed  him  after  he  had  said  it,  and 
he  was  for  toning  it  and  modifying  it,  when  she  gasped  to 
him  to  help  her  to  her  feet;  and  standing  up,  she  ex- 
claimed :  "  0  heaven !  now  I  hear  you  ;  now  I  know  he 
lives.  See  how  much  better  it  is  for  me  to  know  the  real 
truth.  It  takes  me  to  his  bedside.  Ignorance  and  sus- 
pense have  been  poison.  I  have  been  washed  about  like  a 
dead  body.  Let  me  read  all  my  letters  now.  Nothing 
will  harm  me  now.  You  will  do  your  best  for  me,  my 
husband,  will  you  not  ? "  She  tore  at  her  dress  at  her 
throat  for  coolness,  panting  and  smiling.  "  For  me  —  us 
—  yours  —  ours  !  Give  me  my  letters,  lunch  with  me,  and 
start  for  Bevisham.  Now  you  see  how  good  it  is  for  me 
to  hear  the  very  truth,  you  will  give  me  your  own  report, 
and  I  shall  absolutely  trust  in  it,  and  go  down  with  it  if 
it's  false!  But  you  see  I  am  perfectly  strong  for  the 
truth.  It  must  be  you  or  I  to  go.  I  burn  to  go;  but  your 
going  will  satisfy  me.  If  you  look  on  him,  I  look.  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  been  nailed  down  in  a  coffin,  and  have  got 
fresh  air.  I  pledge  you  my  word,  sir,  my  honour,  my  dear 
husband,  that  I  will  think  first  of  my  duty.  I  know  it 
would  be  Nevil's  wisli.  He  has  not  quite  forgiven  me  — 
he  thought  me  ambitious  —  ah !  stop :    he  said  that  the 


BAROKIAL  DESPOTISM  CRUMBLES  473 

birth  of  our  child  would  give  him  greater  happiness  than 
he  had  known  for  years :  he  begged  me  to  persuade  you  to 
call  a  boy  Nevil  Beauchamp,  and  a  girl  Kenee.  He  has 
never  believed  in  his  own  long  living." 

Rosamund  refreshed  her  lord's  heart  by  smiling  archly 
as  she  said :  "  The  boy  to  be  educated  to  take  the  side  of 
the  people,  of  course!     The  girl  is  to  learn  a  profession." 

"Ha!  bless  the  fellow!"  Lord  Eomfrey  interjected. 
"Well,  I  might  go  there  for  an  hour.  Promise  me,  no 
fretting !  You  have  hollows  in  your  cheeks,  and  your 
underlip  hangs :  I  don't  like  it.  I  have  n't  seen  that 
before." 

"  We  do  not  see  clearly  when  we  are  trying  to  deceive," 
said  Rosamund.     "My  letters  !  my  letters  !  " 

Lord  Romfrey  went  to  fetch  them.  They  were  intact 
in  his  desk.  His  wife,  then,  had  actually  been  reading 
the  facts  through  a  wall !  For  he  was  convinced  of  Mrs. 
Devereux's  fidelity,  as  well  as  of  the  colonel's  and 
Cecilia's.  He  was  not  a  man  to  be  disobeyed:  nor  was 
his  wife  the  woman  to  court  or  to  acquiesce  in  trifling  acts 
of  disobedience  to  him.  He  received  the  impression,  con- 
sequently, that  this  matter  of  the  visit  to  Xevil  was  one  in 
which  the  poor  loving  soul  might  be  allowed  to  guide  him, 
singular  as  the  intensity  of  her  love  of  Nevil  Beauchamp 
was,  considering  that  they  were  not  of  kindred  blood. 

He  endeavoured  to  tone  her  mind  for  the  sadder  items  in 
Miss  Denham's  letters. 

"Oh!  "  said  Rosamund,  "what  if  I  shed  the  '  screaming 
eyedrops, '  as  you  call  them  ?  They  will  not  hurt  me, 
but  relieve.  I  was  sure  I  should  some  day  envy  that  girl! 
If  he  dies  she  will  have  nursed  him  and  had  the  last  of 
him." 

"  He  's  not  going  to  die  !  "  said  Everard  powerfully. 

"  We  must  be  prepared.  These  letters  will  do  that  for 
me.  I  have  written  out  the  hours  of  your  trains.  Stanton 
will  attend  on  you.  I  have  directed  him  to  telegraph  to 
the  Dolphin  in  Bevisham  for  rooms  for  the  night:  that  is 
to-morrow  night.  To-night  you  sleep  at  your  hotel  in 
London,  which  will  be  ready  to  receive  you,  and  is  more 
comfortable  than  the  empty  house.  Stanton  takes  wine, 
madeira  and  claret,  and  other  small  necessaries.     If  Nevil 


474  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

should  be  very  unwell,  you  will  not  leave  him  immedi- 
ately. I  shall  look  to  the  supplies.  You  will  telegraph 
to  me  twice  a  day,  and  write  once.  We  lunch  at  half-past 
twelve,  so  that  you  may  hit  the  twenty -minutes -to-two 
o'clock  train.  And  now  I  go  to  see  that  the  packing  is 
done." 

She  carried  off  her  letters  to  her  bedroom,  where  she 
fell  upon  the  bed,  shutting  her  eyelids  hard  before  she 
could  suffer  her  eyes  to  be  the  intermediaries  of  that  fever- 
chamber  in  Bevisham  and  her  bursting  heart.  But  she  had 
not  positively  deceived  her  husband  in  the  re-assurance 
she  had  given  him  by  her  collectedness  and  by  the  precise 
direction  she  had  issued  for  his  comforts,  indicating  a 
mind  so  much  more  at  ease.  She  was  firmer  to  meet  the 
peril  of  her  beloved :  and  being  indeed,  when  thrown  on 
her  internal  resources,  one  among  the  brave  women  of 
earth,  though  also  one  who  required  a  lift  from  circum- 
stances to  take  her  stand  calmly  fronting  a  menace  to  her 
heart,  she  saw  the  evidence  of  her  influence  with  Lord 
Komfrey;  the  level  she  could  feel  that  they  were  on  to- 
gether so  long  as  she  was  courageous,  inspirited  her  sov- 
ereignly. 

He  departed  at  the  hour  settled  for  him.  Eosamund  sat 
at  her  boudoir  window,  watching  the  carriage  that  was  con- 
ducting him  to  the  railway  station.  Neither  of  them  had 
touched  on  the  necessity  of  his  presenting  himself  at  the 
door  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  house.  That,  and  the  disgust  be- 
longing to  it,  was  a  secondary  consideration  with  Lord 
Eomfrey,  after  he  had  once  resolved  on  it  as  the  right 
thing  to  do :  and  his  wife  admired  and  respected  him  for 
so  supreme  a  loftiness.  And  fervently  she  prayed  that  it 
might  not  be  her  evil  fate  to  disappoint  his  hopes.  Never 
had  she  experienced  so  strong  a  sense  of  devotedness  to 
him  as  when  she  saw  the  carriage  winding  past  the  middle 
oak-wood  of  the  park,  under  a  wet  sky  brightened  from  the 
West,  and  on  out  of  sight. 


AT  THE  COTTAGE  ON  THE  COMMON  475 

CHAPTER  L 

AT  THE  COTTAGE  ON  THE  COMMON 

Rain  went  with  Lord  Romfrey  in  a  pursuing  cloud  all 
tlie  way  to  Bevisham,  and  across  the  common  to  the  long 
garden  and  plain  little  green-shuttered,  neat  white  cot- 
tage of  Dr.  Shrapnel.  Carriages  were  driving  from  the 
door;  idle  men  with  hands  deep  in  their  pockets  hung 
near  it,  some  women  pointing  their  shoulders  under  wet 
shawls,  and  boys.  The  earl  was  on  foot.  With  no  sign 
of  discomposure,  he  stood  at  the  half-open  door  and  sent  in 
his  card,  bearing  the  request  for  permission  to  visit  his 
nephew.  The  reply  failing  to  come  to  him  immediately, 
he  began  striding  to  and  fro.  That  garden  gate  where  he 
had  flourished  the  righteous  whip  was  wide.  Footfarers 
over  the  sodden  common  were  attracted  to  the  gateway, 
and  lingered  in  it,  looking  at  the  long,  green-extended 
windows,  apparently  listening,  before  they  broke  away  to 
exchange  undertoned  speech  here  and  there.  Boys  had 
pushed  up  through  the  garden  to  the  kitchen  area.  From 
time  to  time  a  woman  in  a  dripping  bonnet  whimpered 
aloud. 

An  air  of  a  country  churchyard  on  a  Sunday  morning 
when  the  curate  has  commenced  the  service  prevailed.  The 
boys  were  subdued  by  the  moisture,  as  they  are  when  they 
sit  in  the  church  aisle  or  organ-loft,  before  their  members 
have  been  much  cramped. 

The  whole  scene,  and  especially  the  behaviour  of  the 
boys,  betokened  to  Lord  Romfrey  that  an  event  had  come 
to  pass. 

In  a  chronicle  of  a  sickness  the  event  is  death. 

He  bethought  him  of  various  means  of  stopping  the  tele- 
graph and  smothering  the  tale,  if  matters  should  have 
touched  the  worst  here.  He  calculated  abstrusely  the  prac- 
ticable shortness  of  the  two  routes  from  Bevisham  to  Rom- 
frey, by  post-horses  on  the  straightest  line  of  road,  or  by 
express  train  on  the  triangle  of  railway,  in  case  of  an  ex- 
treme need  requiring  him  to  hasten  back  to  his  wife  and 


476  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

renew  his  paternal-despotic  system  with  her.  She  had  but 
persuaded  him  of  the  policy  of  a  liberal  openness  and  con- 
fidence for  the  moment's  occasion  :  she  could  not  turn  his 
nature,  which  ran  to  strokes  of  craft  and  blunt  decision 
whenever  the  emergency  smote  him  and  he  felt  himself 
hailed  to  show  generalship. 

While  thus  occupied  in  thoughtfulness  he  became  aware 
of  the  monotony  of  a  tuneless  chant,  as  if,  it  struck  him,  an 
insane  young  chorister  or  canon  were  galloping  straight  on 
end  hippomaniacally  through  the  Psalms.  There  was  a 
creak  at  intervals,  leading  him  to  think  it  a  machine  that 
might  have  run  away  with  the  winder's  arm. 

The  earl's  humour  proposed  the  notion  to  him  that  this 
perhaps  was  one  of  the  forms  of  Radical  lamentation,  ulu- 
lation,  possibly  practised  by  a  veteran  im pietist  like  Dr. 
Shrapnel  for  the  loss  of  his  youngster,  his  political  cub  — 
poor  lad ! 

Deriding  any  such  paganry,  and  aught  that  could  be  set 
howling.  Lord  Komfrey  was  presently  moved  to  ask  of  the 
small  crowd  at  the  gate  what  that  sound  was. 

^*It's  the  poor  commander,  sir,"  said  a  wet-shawled 
woman,  shivering. 

"  He  's  been  at  it  twenty  hours  already,  sir,"  said  one  of 
the  boys. 

"  Twenty-foor  hour  he  Ve  been  at  it,"  said  another. 
A  short  dispute  grew  over  the  exact  number  of  hours. 
One  boy  declared  that  thirty  hours  had  been  reached. 
"  Father  heerd  'n  yesterday  morning  as  he  was  aff  to  's 
work  in  the  town  afore  six  :  that  brings  't  nigh  thirty  :  and 
he  ha'n't  stopped  yet." 

The  earl  was  invited  to  step  inside  the  gate,  a  little  way 
up  to  the  house,  and  under  the  commander's  window,  that 
he  might  obtain  a  better  hearing. 

He  swung  round,  walked  away,  walked  back,  and  listened. 
If  it  was  indeed  a  voice,  the  voice,  he  would  have  said, 
was  travelling  high  in  air  along  the  sky. 

Yesterday  he  had  described  to  his  wife  Nevil's  chattering 
of  hundreds  to  the  minute.  He  had  not  realized  the  de- 
scription, which  had  been  only  his  manner  of  painting 
delirium  :  there  had  been  no  warrant  for  it.  He  heard  the 
wild  scudding  voice  imperfectly :   it  reminded  him  of  a 


AT  THE  COTTAGE  ON  THE  COMMON  477 

string  of  winter  geese  changing  waters.  Shower  gusts,  and 
the  wail  and  hiss  of  the  rows  of  fir-trees  bordering  the 
garden,  came  between,  and  allowed  him  a  moment's  incre- 
dulity as  to  its  being  a  human  voice.  Such  a  cry  will  often 
haunt  the  moors  and  wolds  from  above  at  nightfall.  The 
voice  hied  on,  sank,  seemed  swallowed ;  it  rose,  as  if  above 
water,  in  a  hush  of  wind  and  trees.  The  trees  bowed  their 
Iieads  rageing,  the  voice  drowned  ;  once  more  to  rise,  chat- 
tering thrice  rapidly,  in  a  high-pitched  key,  thin,  shrill, 
weird,  interminable,  like  winds  through  a  crazy  chamber- 
door  at  midnight. 

The  voice  of  a  broomstick-witch  in  the  clouds  could  not 
be  thinner  and  stranger :  Lord  Romfrey  had  some  such 
thought. 

Dr.  Gannet  was  the  bearer  of  Miss  Denham's  excuses  to 
Lord  Romfrey  for  the  delay  in  begging  him  to  enter  the 
house :  in  the  confusion  of  the  household  his  lordship's  card 
had  been  laid  on  a  table  below,  and  she  was  in  the  sick- 
room. 

"  Is  my  nephew  a  dead  man  ?  "  said  the  earl. 
The  doctor  weighed  his  reply.  "  He  lives.  Whether  he 
will,  after  the  exhaustion  of  this  prolonged  fit  of  raving, 
I  don't  dare  to  predict.  In  the  course  of  my  experience  I 
have  never  known  anything  like  it.  He  lives  :  there  's  the 
miracle,  but  he  lives." 
"  On  brandy  ?  " 

"  That  would  soon  have  sped  him." 
"  Ha.     You  have  everything  here  that  you  want  ?  " 
"  Everything." 

"  He  's  in  your  hands,  Gannet." 

The  earl  was  conducted  to  a  sitting-room,  where  Dr.  Gan- 
net left  him  for  a  while. 

IVIindful  that  he  was  under  the  roof  of  his  enemy,  he 
remained  standing,  observing  nothing. 

The  voice  overheard  was  off  at  a  prodigious  rate,  like  the 
far  sound  of  a  yell  ringing  on  and  on. 

The  earl  unconsciously  sought  a  refuge  from  it  by  turning 
the  leaves  of  af'book  upon  the  table,  which  was  a  complete 
edition  of  Harry  Denham's  Poems,  with  a  preface  by  a  man 
named  Lydiard ;  and  really,  to  read  the  preface  one  would 
suppose  that  these  poets  were  the  princes  of  the  earth. 


478  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Lord  Komfrey  closed  the  volume.  It  was  exquisitely 
bound,  and  presented  to  Miss  Denham  by  the  Mr.  Lydiard. 
*'  The  works  of  your  illustrious  father,"  was  written  on  the 
title-page.  These  writers  deal  queerly  with  their  words  of 
praise  of  one  another.  There  is  no  law  to  restrain  them. 
Perhaps  it  is  the  consolation  they  take  for  the  poor  devil's 
life  they  lead ! 

A  lady  addressing  him  familiarly,  invited  him  to  go  up- 
stairs. 

He  thanked  her.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  turned ;  he 
had  recognized  Cecilia  Halkett. 

Seeing  her  there  was  more  strange  to  him  than  being 
there  himself;   but  he  bowed  to  facts. 

"  What  do  you  think  ?  "  he  said. 

She  did  not  answer  intelligibly. 

He  walked  up. 

The  crazed  gabbling  tongue  had  entire  possession  of  the 
house,  and  rang  through  it  at  an  amazing  pitch  to  sustain 
for  a  single  minute. 

A  reflection  to  the  effect  that  dogs  die  more  decently 
than  we  men,  saddened  the  earl.  But,  then,  it  is  true,  we 
shorten  their  pangs  by  shooting  them. 

A  dismal  figure  loomed  above  him  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

He  distinguished  in  it  the  vast  lean  length  he  had  once 
whipped  and  flung  to  earth. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  was  planted  against  the  wall  outside  that 
raving  chamber,  at  the  salient  angle  of  a  common  prop  or 
buttress.  The  edge  of  a  shoulder  and  a  heel  were  the  sup- 
ports to  him  sideways  in  his  distorted  attitude.  His  wall 
arm  hung  dead  beside  his  pendent  frock-coat ;  the  hair  of 
his  head  had  gone  to  wildness,  like  a  field  of  barley  whipped 
by  tempest.  One  hand  pressed  his  eyeballs :  his  unshaven 
jaw  dropped. 

Lord  Romfrey  passed  him  by. 

The  dumb  consent  of  all  present  afiirmed  the  creature 
lying  on  the  bed  to  be  Nevil  Beauchamp. 

Face,  voice,  lank  arms,  chicken  neck :  what  a  sepulchral 
sketch  of  him ! 

It  was  the  revelry  of  a  corpse. 

Shudders  of  alarm  for  his  wife  seized  Lord  Komfrey  at 
the  sight.     He  thought  the  poor  thing  on  the  bed  roust  b© 


AT   THE  COTTAGE   ON  THE  COMMON  479 

going,  resolving  to  a  cry,  unwinding  itself  violently  in  its 
hurricane  of  speech,  that  was  not  speech  nor  exclamation, 
rather  the  tongue  let  loose  to  run  to  the  death.  It  seemed 
to  be  out  in  mid-sea,  up  wave  and  down  wave. 

A  nurse  was  at  the  pillow  smoothing  it.  Miss  Denhani 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

*'  Is  that  pain  ?  ''  Lord  Romfrey  said  low  to  Dr.  Gannet. 

"  Unconscious,"  was  the  reply. 

Miss  Denham  glided  about  the  room  and  disappeared. 

Her  business  was  to  remove  Dr.  Shrapnel,  that  he  might 
be  out  of  the  way  when  Lord  Romfrey  should  pass  him 
again  :  but  Dr.  Shrapnel  heard  one  voice  only,  and  moaned, 
*'  My  Beauchamp  ! "     She  could  not  get  him  to  stir. 

Miss  Denham  saw  him  start  slightly  as  the  earl  stepped 
forth  and,  bowing  to  him,  said,  "  I  thank  you,  sir,  for  per- 
mitting me  to  visit  my  nephew." 

Dr.  Shrapnel  made  a  motion  of  the  hand,  to  signify  freedom 
of  access  to  his  house.  He  would  have  spoken  :  the  effort 
fetched  a  burst  of  terrible  chuckles.     He  covered  his  face. 

Lord  Romfrey  descended.  The  silly  old  wretch  had  dis- 
turbed his  equanimity  as  a  composer  of  fiction  for  the  com- 
fort and  sustainment  of  his  wife :  and  no  sooner  had  he  the 
front  door  in  view  than  the  calculation  of  the  three  strides 
requisite  to  carry  him  out  of  the  house  plucked  at  his  legs, 
much  as  young  people  are  affected  by  a  dancing  measure ; 
for  he  had,  without  deigning  to  think  of  matters  disagree- 
able to  him  in  doing  so,  performed  the  duty  imposed  upon 
him  by  his  wife,  and  now  it  behoved  him  to  ward  off  the 
coming  blow  from  that  double  life  at  Romfrey  Castle. 

He  was  arrested  in  his  hasty  passage  by  Cecilia  Halkett. 

She  handed  him  a  telegraphic  message :  Rosamund  re- 
quested him  to  stay  two  days  in  Bevisham.  She  said  addi- 
tionally :  "  Perfectly  well.  Shall  fear  to  see  you  returning 
yet.  Have  sent  to  Tourdestelle.  All  his  friends.  Ni  espoir, 
ni  crainte,  mais  point  de  deceptions.  Lumiere.  Ce  sont  les 
tenebres  qui  tuent." 

Her  nimble  wits  had  spied  him  on  the  road  he  was  choos- 
ing, and  outrun  him. 

He  resigned  himself  to  wait  a  couple  of  days  in  Bevisham. 
Cecilia  begged  him  to  accept  a  bed  at  Mount  Laurels.  He 
declined,  and  asked  her  :  ^'  How  is  it  you  are  here  ?  " 


480 

"1  called  here,"  she  said,  compressing  her  eyelids  in 
anguish  at  a  wilder  cry  of  the  voice  overhead,  and  forgetting 
to  state  why  she  had  called  at  the  house  and  what  services 
she  had  undertaken.  A  heap  of  letters  in  her  handwriting 
explained  the  nature  of  her  task. 

Lord  Komfrey  asked  her  where  the  colonel  was. 

"  He  drives  me  down  in  the  morning  and  back  at  night,  but 
they  will  give  me  a  bed  or  a  sofa  here  to-night —  I  can't  .  .  ." 
Cecilia  stretched  her  hand  out,  blinded,  to  the  earl. 

He  squeezed  her  hand. 

"  These  letters  take  away  my  strength  :  crying  is  quite 
useless,  I  know  that,"  said  she,  glancing  at  a  pile  of  letters 
that  she  had  partly  replied  to.  "  Some  are  from  people  who 
can  hardly  write.  There  were  people  who  distrusted  him  ! 
Some  are  from  people  who  abused  him  and  maltreated  him. 
See  those  poor  creatures  out  in  the  rain ! " 

Lord  E/omfrey  looked  through  the  Venetian  blinds  of  the 
parlour  window. 

"It's  as' good  as  a  play  to  them,"  he  remarked. 

Cecilia  lit  a  candle  and  applied  a  stick  of  black  wax  to  the 
flame,  saying :  "  Envelopes  have  fallen  short.  These  letters 
will  frighten  the  receivers.     I  cannot  help  it." 

"  I  will  bring  letter  paper  and  envelopes  in  the  afternoon," 
said  Lord  Eomfrey.     "  Don't  use  black  wax,  my  dear." 

"  I  can  find  no  other.  I  do  not  like  to  trouble  Miss  Den- 
ham.  Letter  paper  has  to  be  sealed.  These  letters  must  go 
by  the  afternoon  post :  I  do  not  like  to  rob  the  poor  anxious 
people  of  a  little  hope  while  he  lives.  Let  me  have  note 
paper  and  envelopes  quickly :   not  black-edged." 

"  Plain ;  that 's  right,"  said  Lord  Eomfrey. 

Black  appeared  to  him  like  the  torch  of  death  flying  over 
the  country. 

"  There  may  be  hope,"  he  added. 

She  sighed:    "Oh!  yes." 

*'  Gannet  will  do  everything  that  man  can  do  to  save  him." 

"  He  will,  I  am  sure." 

"  You  don't  keep  watch  in  the  room,  my  dear,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Miss  Denham  allows  me  an  hour  there  in  the  day :  it  is 
the  only  rest  she  takes.     She  gives  me  her  bedroom." 

"Ha:  well:  women!"  ejaculated  the  earl,  and  paused. 
"  That  sounded  like  him ! " 


AT  THE   COTTAGE  ON  THE  COMMON  481 

^^  At  times,"  murmured  Cecilia.  "  All  yesterday  !  all 
through  the  night!    and  to-day!" 

"  He  '11  be  missed." 

Any  sudden  light  of  happier  expectation  that  might  have 
animated  him  was  extinguished  by  the  flight  of  chatter  fol- 
lowing the  cry  which  had  sounded  like  Beauchamp. 

He  went  out  into  the  rain,  thinking  that  Beauchamp  would 
be  missed.  The  fellow  had  bothered  the  world,  but  the  world 
without  him  would  be  heavy  matter. 

The  hour  was  mid-day,  workmen's  meal-time.  A  congre- 
gation of  shipyard  workmen  and  a  multitude  of  children 
crowded  near  the  door.  In  passing  through  them,  Lord 
Eomfrey  was  besought  for  the  doctor's  report  of  Commander 
Beauchamp,  variously  named  Beesham,  Bosham,  Bitcham, 
Bewsham.  The  earl  heard  his  own  name  pronounced  as  he 
particularly  di&liked  to  hear  it  —  Rumf ree.  Two  or  three 
men  scowled  at  him. 

It  had  not  occurred  to  him  ever  before  in  his  meditations 
to  separate  his  blood  and  race  from  the  common  English; 
and  he  was  not  of  a  character  to  dwell  on  fantastical  and 
purposeless  distinctions,  but  the  mispronunciation  of  his 
name  and  his  nephew's  at  an  instant  when  he  was  thinking 
of  Kevil's  laying  down  his  life  for  such  men  as  these  gross 
excessive  breeders,  of  ill  shape  and  wooden  countenance, 
pushed  him  to  reflections  on  the  madness  of  Nevil  in  en- 
deavouring to  lift  them  up  and  brush  them  up ;  and  a  curious 
tenderness  for  Nevil's  madness  worked  in  his  breast  as  he 
contrasted  this  much-abused  nephew  of  his  with  our  general 
English  —  the  so-called  nobles,  who  were  sunk  in  the  mud  of 
the  traders :  the  traders,  who  were  sinking  in  the  mud  of 
the  workmen :  the  workmen,  who  were  like  harbour-flats  at 
ebb  tide  round  a  stuck-fast  fleet  of  vessels  big  and. little. 

Decidedly  a  fellow  like  N'evil  would  be  missed  by  him  ! 

These  English,  huddling  more  and  more  in  flocks,  turning 
to  lumps,  getting  to  be  cut  in  a  pattern  and  marked  by  a  label 
—  how  they  bark  and  snap  to  rend  an  obnoxious  original ! 
One  may  chafe  at  the  botheration  everlastingly  raised  by 
the  fellow ;  but  if  our  England  is  to  keep  her  place  she  must 
have  him,  and  many  of  him.     Have  him  ?    He 's  gone  I 

Lord  Romfrey  reasoned  himself  into  pathetic  sentiment 
by  degrees. 

81 


482  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

He  purchased  the  note  paper  and  envelopes  in  the  town 
for  Cecilia.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  deposited  them  on 
the  parlour  table  at  Dr.  Shrapnel's.  Miss  Denham  received 
him.  She  was  about  to  lie  down  for  her  hour  of  rest  on 
the  sofa.  Cecilia  was  upstairs.  He  inquired  if  there  was 
any  change  in  his  nephew's  condition. 

"Not  any/'  said  Miss  Denham. 

The  voice  was  abroad  for  proof  of  that. 

He  stood  with  a  swelling  heart. 

Jenny  flung  out  a  rug  to  its  length  beside  the  sofa,  and, 
holding  it  by  one  end,  said  :  "  I  must  have  my  rest,  to  be 
of  service,  my  lord." 

He  bowed.     He  was  mute  and  surprised. 

The  young  lady  was  like  no  person  of  her  age  and  sex 
that  he  remembered  ever  to  have  met. 

"  I  will  close  the  door,"  he  said,  retiring  softly. 

"Do  not,  my  lord." 

The  rug  was  over  her,  up  to  her  throat,  and  her  eyes 
were  shut.  He  looked  back  through  the  doorway  in  going 
out.     She  was  asleep. 

"  Some  delirium.  Gannet  of  good  hope.  All  in  the 
usual  course  ; "  he  transmitted  intelligence  to  his  wife. 

A  strong  desire  for  wine  at  his  dinner-table  warned  him 
of  something  wrong  with  his  iron  nerves. 


CHAPTEE  LI 

IN    THE    NIGHT 


The  delirious  voice  haunted  him.  It  came  no  longer 
accompanied  by  images  and  likenesses  to  this  and  that  of 
animate  nature,  which  were  relieving  and  distracting ;  it 
came  to  him  in  its  mortal  nakedness  —  an  afflicting  inces- 
sant ringing  peal,  bare  as  death's  ribs  in  telling  of  death. 
When  would  it  stop  ?  And  when  it  stopped,  what  would 
succeed  ?     What  ghastly  silence  ! 


EST  THE  NIGHT  483 

He  walked  to  within  view  of  the  lights  at  Dr.  Shrapnel's 
at  night :  then  home  to  his  hotel. 

Miss  Denham's  power  of  commanding  sleep,  as  he  could 
not,  though  contrary  to  custom  he  tried  it  on  the  right  side 
and  the  left,  set  him  thinking  of  her.  He  owned  she  was 
pretty.  But  that,  he  contended,  was  not  the  word ;  and  the 
word  was  undiscoverable.  Not  Cecilia  Halkett  herself  had 
so  high-bred  an  air,  for  Cecilia  had  not  her  fineness  of  feat- 
ure and  full  quick  eyes,  of  which  the  thin  eyelids  were  part 
of  the  expression.  And  Cecilia  sobbed,  sniffled,  was  patched 
about  the  face,  reddish,  bluish.  This  girl  was  pliable  only 
to  service,  not  to  grief :  she  did  her  work  for  three-and- 
twenty  hours,  and  fell  to  her  sleep  of  one  hour  like  a 
soldier.  Lord  Romfrey  could  not  recollect  anything  in  a 
young  woman  that  had  taken  him  so  much  as  the  girFs 
tossing  out  of  the  rug  and  covering  herself,  lying  down  and 
going  to  sleep  under  his  nose,  absolutely  independent  of 
his  presence. 

She  had  not  betrayed  any  woman's  petulance  with  him 
for  his  conduct  to  her  uncle  or  guardian.  Nor  had  she 
hypocritically  affected  the  reverse,  as  ductile  women  do, 
when  they  feel  wanting  in  force  to  do  the  other.  She  was 
not  unlike  Nevil's  marquise  in  face,  he  thought :  less  foreign 
of  course ;  looking  thrice  as  firm.  Both  were  delicately 
featured. 

He  had  a  dream. 

It  was  of  an  interminable  procession  of  that  odd  lot  called 
the  People.  All  of  them  were  quarrelling  under  a  deluge. 
One  party  was  for  umbrellas,  one  was  against  them :  and 
sounding  the  dispute  with  a  question  or  two,  Everard  held 
it  logical  that  there  should  be  protection  from  the  wet; 
just  as  logical  on  the  other  hand  that  so  frail  a  shelter 
should  be  discarded,  considering  the  tremendous  downpour. 
But  as  he  himself  was  dry,  save  for  two  or  three  drops,  he 
deemed  them  all  lunatics.  He  requested  them  to  gag  their 
empty  chatter-boxes,  and  put  the  mother  upon  that  child's 
cry. 

He  was  now  a  simple  unit  of  the  procession.  Asking 
naturally  whither  they  were  going,  he  saw  them  point. 
"St.  Paul's,"  he  heard.  In  his  own  bosom  it  was,  and 
striking  like  the  cathedral  big  bell, 


484  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Several  ladies  addressed  him  sorrowfully.  He  stood 
alone.  It  had  become  notorious  that  he  was  to  do  battle, 
and  no  one  thought  well  of  his  chances.  Devil  an  enemy 
to  be  seen  !  he  muttered.  Yet  they  said  the  enemy  was 
close  upon  him.  His  right  arm  was  paralyzed.  There  was 
the  enemy  hard  in  front,  mailed,  vizored,  gauntleted.  He 
tried  to  lift  his  right  hand,  and  found  it  grasping  an  iron 
ring  at  the  bottom  of  the  deep  Steynham  well,  sunk  one 
hundred  feet  through  the  chalk.  But  the  unexampled  cun- 
ning of  his  left  arm  was  his  little  secret;  and,  acting  upon 
this  knowledge,  he  telegraphed  to  his  first  wife  at  Steynham 
that  Dr.  Gannet  was  of  good  hope,  and  thereupon  he  re- 
entered the  ranks  of  the  voluminous  procession,  already 
winding  spirally  round  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's.  And  there, 
said  he,  is  the  tomb  of  Beauchamp.  Everything  occurred 
according  to  his  predictions,  and  he  was  entirely  devoid  of 
astonishment.  Yet  he  would  fain  have  known  the  titles  of 
the  slain  admiral's  naval  battles.  He  protested  he  had  a 
right  to  know,  for  he  was  the  hero's  uncle,  and  loved  him. 
He  assured  the  stupid  scowling  people  that  he  loved  Nevil 
Beauchamp,  always  loved  the  boy,  and  was  the  staunchest 
friend  the  fellow  had.  And  saying  that,  he  certainly  felt 
himself  leaning  up  against  the  cathedral  rails  in  the  atti- 
tude of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  crying,  "  Beauchamp !  Beau- 
champ!'* And  then  he  walked  firmly  out  of  Eomfrey 
oak-woods,  and,  at  a  mile's  distance  from  her,  related  to  his 
countess  Eosamund  that  the  burial  was  over  without  much 
silly  ceremony,  and  that  she  needed  to  know  nothing  of  it 
whatever. 

Kosamund's  face  awoke  him.  It  was  the  face  of  a  chalk- 
quarry,  featureless,  hollowed,  appalling. 

The  hour  was  no  later  than  three  in  the  morning.  He 
quitted  the  detestable  bed  where  a  dream  —  one  of  some 
half-dozen  in  the  course  of  his  life  —  had  befallen  him. 
For  the  maxim  of  the  healthy  man  is  :  up,  and  have  it  out 
in  exercise  when  sleep  is  for  foisting  base  coin  of  dreams 
upon  you !  And  as  the  healthy  only  are  fit  to  live,  their 
maxims  should  be  law.  He  dressed  and  .directed  his  lei- 
surely steps  to  the  common,  under  a  black  sky  and  stars  of 
lively  brilliancy.  The  lights  of  a  carriage  gleamed  on  Dr. 
Shrapnel's  door.     A  footman  informed  Lord  Romfrey  that 


IN  THE  NIGHT  485 

Colonel  Halkett  was  in  the  house,  and  soon  afterward  the 
colonel  appeared. 

"  Is  it  over  ?     I  don't  hear  him,"  said  Lord  Komfrey. 

Colonel  Halkett  grasped  his  hand.  "Not  yet,"  he  said. 
"  Cissy  can't  be  got  away.  It 's  killing  her.  No,  he  's  alive. 
You  may  hear  him  now." 

Lord  Komfrey  bent  his  ear. 

"  It 's  weaker,"  the  colonel  resumed.  "  By  the  way, 
Romfrey,  step  out  with  me.  My  dear  friend,  the  circum- 
stances will  excuse  me :  you  know  I  'm  not  a  man  to  take 
liberties.  I*m  bound  to  tell  you  what  your  wife  writes  to 
me.  She  says  she  has  it  on  her  conscience,  and  can't  rest 
for  it.  You  know  women.  She  wants  you  to  speak  to  the 
man  here  —  Shrapnel.  She  wants  ISTevil  to  hear  that  you 
and  he  were  friendly  before  he  dies  ;  thinks  it  would  con- 
sole the  poor  dear  fellow.  That 's  only  an  idea ;  but  it 
concerns  her,  you  see.  I  'm  shocked  to  have  to  talk  to  you 
about  it." 

"  My  dear  colonel,  I  have  no  feeling  against  the  man," 
Lord  Romfrey  replied.  "  I  spoke  to  him  when  I  saw  him 
yesterday.  I  bear  no  grudges.  Where  is  he  ?  You  can 
send  to" her  to  say  I  have  spoken  to  him  twice." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  the  colonel  assented. 

He  could  not  imagine  that  Lady  Romfrey  required  more 
of  her  husband.  "  Well,  I  must  be  oif.  I  leave  Blackburn 
Tuckham  here,  with  a  friend  of  his ;  a  man  who  seems  to  be 
very  sweet  with  Mrs.  Wardour-Devereux." 

' '  Ha  !  Fetch  him  to  me,  colonel ;  I  beg  you  to  do  that," 
said  Lord  Romfrey. 

The  colonel  brought  out  Lydiard  to  the  earl. 

"  You  have  been  at  ray  nephew's  bedside,  Mr.  Lydiard  ?  " 

"  Within  ten  minutes,  my  lord." 

*'  What  is  your  opinion  of  the  case  ?  " 

"  My  opinion  is,  the  chances  are  in  his  favour." 

"  Lay  me  under  obligation  by  communicating  that  to 
Romfrey  Castle  at  the  first  opening  of  the  telegraph  office 
to-morrow  morning." 

Lydiard  promised. 

"  The  raving  has  ended  ?  " 

"  Hardly,  sir,  but  the  exhaustion  is  less  than  we  feared 
it  would  be." 


486  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

"Gannetis  there?'' 

*'  He  is  in  an  arm-chair  in  the  room." 

"And  Dr.  Shrapnel?" 

"  He  does  not  bear  speaking  to ;  he  is  quiet." 

"  He  is  attached  to  my  nephew  ?  " 

"  As  much  as  to  life  itself." 

Lord  Komfrey  thanked  Lydiard  courteously.  "Let  us 
hope,  sir,  that  some  day  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  enter- 
taining you,  as  well  as  another  friend  of  yours." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  my  lord." 

The  earl  stood  at  the  door  to  see  Colonel  Halkett  drive 
off :  he  declined  to  accompany  him  to  Mount  Laurels. 

In  the  place  of  the  carriage  stood  a  man,  who  growled, 
"  Where 's  your  horsewhip,  butcher  ?  " 

He  dogged  the  earl  some  steps  across  the  common. 
Everard  returned  to  his  hotel  and  slept  soundly  during  the 
remainder  of  the  dark  hours. 


CHAPTER  LII 

QUESTION   OF    A   PILGRIMAGE   AND    AN   ACT   OF   PENANCE. 

Then  came  a  glorious  morning  for  sportsmen.  One  sniffed 
the  dews,  and  could  fancy  fresh  smells  of  stubble  earth  and 
dank  woodland  grass  in  the  very  streets  of  dirty  Bevisham. 
Sound  sleep,  like  hearty  dining,  endows  men  with  a  sense 
of  rectitude,  and  sunlight  following  the  former,  as  a  pleas- 
ant spell  of  conversational  ease  or  sweet  music  the  latter, 
smiles  a  celestial  approval  of  the  performance.  Lord  Rom- 
frey  dismissed  his  anxieties.  His  lady  slightly  ruffled  him 
at  breakfast  in  a  letter  saying  that  she  wished  to  join  him. 
He  was  annoyed  at  noon  by  a  message,  wherein  the  wish 
was  put  as  a  request.  And  later  arrived  another  message, 
bearing  the  character  of  an  urgent  petition.  True,  it  might 
be  laid  to  the  account  of  telegraphic  brevity. 

He  saw  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  spoke  to  him,  as  before,  to 
thank  him  for  the  permission  to  visit  his  nephew.     Nevil 


QUESTION  OF  PILGRIMAGE  AND   PENANCE        487 

he  contemplated  for  the  space  of  five  minutes.     He   cor- 
dially saluted  Miss  Denham.    He  kissed  Cecilia's  hand. 

"  All  here  is  going  on  so  well  that  I  am  with  you  for  a 
day  or  two  to-morrow,"  he  dispatched  the  message  to  his 
wife. 

Her  case  was  now  the  gravest.  He  could  not  understand 
why  she  desired  to  be  in  Bevisham.  She  must  have  had 
execrable  dreams  !  —  rank  poison  to  mothers. 

However,  her  constitutional  strength  was  great,  and  his 
pride  in  the  restoration  of  his  House  by  her  agency  flour- 
ished anew,  what  with  fair  weather  and  a  favourable  report 
from  Dr.  Gannet.  The  weather  was  most  propitious  to  the 
hopes  of  any  soul  bent  on  dispersing  the  shadows  of  death, 
and  to  sportsmen.  From  the  windows  of  his  railway  car- 
riage he  beheld  the  happy  sportsmen  stalking  afield.  The 
birds  whirred  and  dropped  just  where  he  counted  on  their 
dropping.  The  smoke  of  the  guns  threaded  to  dazzling 
silver  in  the  sunshine.  Say  what  poor  old  Nevil  will,  or 
did  say,  previous  to  the  sobering  of  his  blood,  where  is  there 
a  land  like  England  ?  Everard  rejoiced  in  his  country  tem- 
perately. Having  Nevil  as  well,  — of  which  fact  the  report 
he  was  framing  in  his  mind  to  deliver  to  his  wife  assured 
him,  —  he  was  rich.  And  you  that  put  yourselves  forward 
for  republicans  and  democrats,  do  you  deny  the  aristocracy 
of  an  oaklike  man  who  is  young  upon  the  verge  of  eighty  ? 

Thefse  were  poetic  flights,  but  he  knew  them  not  by  name, 
and  had  not  to  be  ashamed  of  them. 

Rosamund  met  him  in  the  hall  of  the  castle.  "  You  have 
not  deceived  me,  my  dear  lord,"  she  said,  embracing  him. 
"  You  have  done  what  you  could  for  me.  The  rest  is  for 
me  to  do." 

He  reciprocated  her  embrace  warmly,  in  commendation 
of  her  fresher  good  looks. 

She  asked  him,  "  You  have  spoken  to  Dr.  Shrapnel  ?  " 

He  answered  her,  "  Twice." 

The  word  seemed  quaint.  She  recollected  that  he  was 
quaint. 

He  repeated,  "  I  spoke  to  him  the  first  day  I  saw  him, 
and  the  second." 


488 

"We  are  so  much  indebted  to  him,"  said  Eosamund. 
"  His  love  of  Nevil  surpasses  ours.  Poor  man  !  poor  man  ! 
At  least  we  may  now  hope  the  blow  will  be  spared  ^him 
which  would  have  carried  off  his  life  with  Nevil's.  I  have 
later  news  of  Nevil  than  you." 

"  Good,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Ah  me  !  the  pleasure  of  the  absence  of  pain.  He  is  not 
gone." 

Lord  Eomfrey  liked  her  calm  resignation. 

"There  's  a  Mr.  Lydiard,"  he  said,  "a  friend  of  NeviPs, 
and  a  friend  of  Louise  Devereux's." 

"  Yes ;  we  hear  from  him  every  four  hours,"  Eosamund 
rejoined.     "Mention  him  to  her  before  me." 

"  That  *s  exactly  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you  to  do  before 
me,"  said  her  husband,  smiling. 

"  Because,  Everard,  is  it  not  so  ?  —  widows  .  .  .  and  she 
loves  this  gentleman  !  " 

"Certainly,  my  dear;  I  think  with  you  about  widows. 
The  world  asks  them  to  practise  its  own  hypocrisy. 
Louise  Devereux  was  married  to  a  pipe ;  she  's  the  widow 
of  tobacco  ash.     We'll  make  daylight  round  her." 

"  How  good,  how  kind  you  are,  my  lord  !  I  did  not  think 
so  shrewd !  But  benevolence  is  almost  all-seeing.  You  said 
you  spoke  to  Dr.  Shrapnel  twice.     Was  he  .  .  .  polite  ?  " 

"  Thoroughly  upset,  you  know." 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  What  was  it  ?  '  Beaucliamp  !  Beauchamp  ! '  the  first 
time ;  and  the  second  time  he  said  he  thought  it  had  left 
off  raining." 

"  Ah ! "    Eosamund  drooped  her  head. 

She  looked  up.  "  Here  is  Louise.  My  lord  has  had  a 
long  conversation  with  Mr.  Lydiard." 

"  I  trust  he  will  come  here  before  you  leave  us,"  added 
the  earl." 

Eosamund  took  her  hand.  "  My  lord  has  been  more 
acute  than  I,  or  else  your  friend  is  less  guarded  than 
you." 

"  What  have  you  seen  ?  "  said  the  blushing  lady. 

"  Stay.  I  have  an  idea  you  are  one  of  the  women  I  prom- 
ised to  Cecil  Baskelett,"  said  the  earl.  "Now  may  I  tell 
him  there 's  no  chance  ?  " 


QUESTION  OF  PILGRIMAGE  AJSTD  PENANCE        489 

"Oh!  do." 

They  spent  so  very  pleasant  an  evening  that  the  earl 
settled  down  into  a  comfortable  expectation  of  the  renewal 
of  his  old  habits  in  the  September  and  October  season. 
Nevil's  frightful  cry  played  on  his  ear-drum  at  whiles,  but 
not  too  affectingly.  He  conducted  Rosamund  to  her  room, 
kissed  her,  hoped  she  would  sleep  well,  and  retired  to  his 
good  hard  bachelor's  bed,  where  he  confidently  supposed  he 
would  sleep.  The  sleep  of  a  dyspeptic,  with  a  wilder  than 
the  monstrous  Bevisham  dream,  befell  him,  causing  him 
to  rise  at  three  in  the  morning  and  proceed  to  his  lady's 
chamber,  to  assure  himself  that  at  least  she  slept  well. 
She  was  awake. 

"  I  thought  you  might  come,"  she  said. 

He  reproached  her  gently  for  indulging  foolish  nervous 
fears. 

She  replied :  "  No,  I  do  not ;  I  am  easier  about  Nevil.  I 
begin  to  think  he  will  live.  I  have  something  at  my  heart 
that  prevents  me  from  sleeping.  It  concerns  me.  Whether 
he  is  to  live  or  die,  I  should  like  him  to  know  he  has  not 
striven  in  vain  —  not  in  everything :  not  where  my  con- 
science tells  me  he  was  right,  and  we,  I,  wrong  —  utterly 
wrong,  wickedly  wrong." 

"My  dear  girl,  you  are  exciting  yourself." 

"  No ;  feel  my  pulse.  The  dead  of  night  brings  out  Nevil 
to  me  like  the  Writing  on  the  Wall.  It  shall  not  be  said 
he  failed  in  everything.  Shame  to  us  if  it  could  be  said ! 
He  tried  to  make  me  see  what  my  duty  was,  and  my 
honour." 

"  He  was  at  every  man  Jack  of  us." 

"  I  speak  of  one  thing.  I  thought  I  might  not  have  to 
go.  Now  I  feel  I  must.  I  remember  him  at  Steyuham, 
when  Colonel  Halkett  and  Cecilia  were  there.  But  for  me, 
Cecilia  would  now  be  his  wife.  Of  that  there  is  no  doubt; 
that  is  not  the  point ;  regrets  are  fruitless.  I  see  how  the 
struggle  it  cost  him  to  break  with  his  old  love  —  that  en- 
dearing Madame  de  Rouaillout,  his  Renee  —  broke  his  heart ; 
and  then  his  loss  of  Cecilia  Halkett.  But  I  do"  believe, 
true  as  that  I  am  lying  here,  and  you  hold  my  hand,  my 
dear  husband,  those  losses  were  not  so  fatal  to  him  as  the 
sufferings  he  went  through  on  account  of  his  friend.  Dr. 


490  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Shrapnel.  I  will  not  keep  you  here.  Go  and  have  some 
rest.  What  I  shall  beg  of  you  to-morrow  will  not  injure 
my  health  in  the  slightest :  the  reverse :  it  will  raise  me 
from  a  bitter  depression.  It  shall  not  be  said  that  those 
who  loved  him  were  unmoved  by  him.  Before  he  comes 
back  to  life,  or  is  carried  to  his  grave,  he  shall  know  that  I 
was  not  false  to  my  love  of  him." 

"  My  dear,  your  pulse  is  at  ninety,"  said  the  earl. 

"  Look  lenient,  be  kind,  be  just,  my  husband.  Oh !  let  us 
cleanse  our  hearts.  This  great  wrong  was  my  doing.  I  am 
not  only  quite  strong  enough  to  travel  to  Bevisham,  I  shall 
be  happy  in  going  :  and  when  I  have  done  it  —  said,  '  The 
wrong  was  all  mine,'  I  shall  rejoice  like  the  pure  in  spirit. 
Forgiveness  does  not  matter,  though  I  now  believe  that 
poor  loving  old  man  who  waits  outside  his  door  weeping, 
is  wrong-headed  only  in  his  political  views.  We  women 
can  read  men  by  their  power  to  love.  Where  love  exists 
there  is  goodness.  But  it  is  not  for  the  sake  of  the  poor 
old  man  himself  that  I  would  go  :  it  is  for  Nevil's  :  it  is  for 
ours,  chiefly  for  me,  for  my  child's,  if  ever !  .  .  ."  Rosa- 
mund turned  her  head  on  her  pillow. 

The  earl  patted  her  cheek.  "  We  '11  talk  it  over  in  the 
morning,"  he  said.     ^'Now  go  to  sleep." 

He  could  not  say  more,  for  he  did  not  dare  to  attempt 
cajolery  with  her.  Shading  his  lamp,  he  stepped  softly 
away  to  wrestle  with  a  worse  nightmare  than  sleep's.  Her 
meaning  was  clear :  and  she  was  a  woman  to  insist  on  doing 
it.  She  was  nevertheless  a  woman  not  impervious  to 
reason,  if  only  he  could  shape  her  understanding  to  per- 
ceive that  the  state  of  her  nerves,  incident  to  her  delicate 
situation  and  the  shock  of  that  fellow  Nevil's  illness  — 
poor  lad !  —  was  acting  on  her  mind,  rendering  her  a  vic- 
tim of  exaggerated  ideas  of  duty,  and  so  forth. 

Naturally,  apart  from  allowing  her  to  undertake  the 
journey  by  rail,  he  could  not  sanction  his  lady's  humbling 
of  herself  so  egregiously  and  unnecessarily.  Shrapnel  had 
behaved  unbecomingly,  and  had  been  punished  for  it.  He 
had  spoken  to  Shrapnel,  and  the  affair  was  virtually  at  an 
end.  With  his  assistance  she  would  see  that,  when  less 
excited.  Her  eternal  brooding  over  Nevil  was  the  cause  of 
these  mental  vagaries. 


QUESTION   OF  PILGRIMAGE   AKD  PENANbE        491 

Lord  Romfrey  was  for  postponing  the  appointed  discus- 
sion in  the  morning  after  breakfast.  He  pleaded  business 
engagements. 

^'  iJone  so  urgent  as  this  of  mine,"  said  Rosamund. 

"  But  we  have  excellent  news  of  ISTevil :  you  have  Gan- 
net's  word  for  it,"  he  argued.  "  There 's  really  nothing 
to  distress  you." 

"  My  heart :  I  must  be  worthy  of  good  news,  to  know 
happiness,"  she  answered.  "I  will  say,  let  me  go  to 
Bevisham  two,  three,  four  days  hence,  if  you  like,  but  there 
is  peace  for  me,  and  nowhere  else." 

"  My  precious  Rosamund !  have  you  set  your  two  eyes  on 
it  ?  What  you  are  asking,  is  for  permission  to  make  an 
apology  to  Shrapnel ! " 

^' That  is  the  word." 

"That's  Nevil's  word." 

"  It  is  a  prescription  to  me." 

"  An  apology  ?  " 

The  earPs  gorge  rose.  Why,  such  an  act  was  comparable 
to  the  circular  mission  of  the  dog ! 

"  If  I  do  not  make  the  apology,  the  mother  of  your  child 
is  a  coward,"  said  Rosamund. 

"She's  not." 

"  I  trust  not." 

"  You  are  a  reasonable  woman,  my  dear.  Now  listen : 
the  man  insulted  you.  It's  past :  done  with.  He  insulted 
you  .  .  ." 

"He  did  not." 

"What?" 

"  He  was  courteous  to  me,  hospitable  to  me,  kind  to  me. 
He  did  not  insult  me.     I  belied  him." 

"My  dear  saint,  you're  dreaming.  He  spoke  insultingly 
of  you  to  Cecil." 

"  Is  my  lord  that  man's  dupe  ?  I  would  stand  against 
him  before  the  throne  of  God,  with  what  little  I  know  of 
his  interview  with  Dr.  Shrapnel,  to  confront  him  and  ex- 
pose his  lie.  Do  not  speak  of  him.  He  stirs  my  evil  pas- 
sions, and  makes  me  feel  myself  the  creature  I  was  when  I 
returned  to  Steynham  from  my  first  visit  to  Bevisham,  en- 
raged with  jealousy  of  Dr.  Shrapnel's  influence  over  Nevil, 
spiteful,  malicious.    Oh!  such  a  nest  of  vileness  as  I  pray 


492  BEAUCHAMP^S  CAREER 

to  heaven  I  am  not  now,  if  it  is  granted  me  to  give  life 
to  another.  Nevil's  misfortunes  date  from  that/'  she  con- 
tinued, in  reply  to  the  earl's  efforts  to  soothe  her.  "  Not 
the  loss  of  the  Election :  that  was  no  misfortune,  but  a 
lesson.  He  would  not  have  shone  in  Parliament :  he  runs 
too  much  from  first  principles  to  extremes.  You  see  I  am 
perfectly  reasonable,  Everard  :  I  can  form  an  exact  estimate 
of  character  and  things."  She  smiled  in  his  face.  "  And 
I  know  my  husband  too:  what  he  will  grant;  what  he 
would  not,  and  justly  would  not.  I  know  to  a  certainty 
that,  vexatious  as  I  must  be  to  you  now,  you  are  conscious 
of  my  having  reason  for  being  so." 

"You  carry  it  so  far  —  fifty  miles  beyond  the  mark," 
said  he.  "The  man  roughed  you,  and  I  taught  him 
manners." 

"  No  ! "  she  half  screamed  her  interposition.  "  I  repeat, 
he  was  in  no  way  discourteous  or  disobliging  to  me.  He 
offered  me  a  seat  at  his  table,  and,  heaven  forgive  me  I 
I  believe  a  bed  in  his  house,  that  I  might  wait  and  be 
sure  of  seeing  Nevil,  because  1  was  very  anxious  to  see 
him." 

"  All  the  same,  you  can't  go  to  the  man." 

"  I  should  have  said  so  too,  before  my  destiny  touched 
me." 

"  A  certain  dignity  of  position,  my  dear,  demands  a  cor- 
responding dignity  of  conduct :  you  can't  go." 

"  If  I  am  walking  in  the  very  eye  of  heaven,  and  feeling 
it  shining  on  me  where  I  go,  there  is  no  question  for  me  of 
human  dignity." 

Such  flighty  talk  offended  Lord  Eomfrey. 

"  It  comes  to  this  :  you  're  in  want  of  a  parson.'^ 

Rosamund  was  too  careful  to  hint  that  she  would  have 
expected  succour  and  seconding  from  one  or  other  of  the 
better  order  of  clergymen. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  To  this,  my  dear  lord :  I  have  a 
troubled  mind ;  and  it  is  not  to  listen  nor  to  talk,  that  I  am 
in  need  of,  but  to  act." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  girl,  but  not  to  act  insanely.  I  do  love 
soundness  of  head.  You  have  it,  only  just  now  you  're  a 
little  astray.     We  '11  leave  this  matter  for  another  time.'* 

E-osamund  held  him  by  the  arm.     "  Not  too  long  !  " 


QUESTION  OF  PILGRIIVIAGE  AND  PENANCE        493 

Both  of  them  applied  privately  to  Mrs.  Wardour- 
Devereux  for  her  opinion  and  counsel  on  the  subject  of  the 
proposal  to  apologize  to  Dr.  Shrapnel.  She  was  against  it 
with  the  earl,  and  became  Rosamund's  echo  when  with  her. 
When  alone,  she  was  divided  into  two  almost  equal  halves  : 
deeming  that  the  countess  should  not  insist,  and  the  earl 
should  not  refuse :  him  she  condemned  for  lack  of  sufficient 
spiritual  insight  to  perceive  the  merits  of  his  wife's  re- 
quest :  her  she  accused  of  some  vestige  of  something  under- 
bred in  her  nature,  for  putting  such  fervid  stress  upon  the 
supplication :  i.  e.  making  too  much  of  it  —  a  trick  of  the 
vulgar :  and  not  known  to  the  languid. 

She  wrote  to  Lydiard  for  advice. 

He  condensed  a  paragraph  into  a  line  :  — 

"It  should  be  the  earl.  She  is  driving  him  to  it,  inten- 
tionally or  not." 

Mrs.  Devereux  doubted  that  the  countess  could  have  so 
false  an  idea  of  her  husband's  character  as  to  think  it  pos- 
sible he  would  ever  be  bent  to  humble  himself  to  the  man 
he  had  castigated.  She  was  right.  It  was  by  honestly 
presenting  to  his  mind  something  more  loathsome  still,  the 
humbling  of  herself,  that  Rosamund  succeeded  in  awaken- 
ing some  remote  thoughts  of  a  compromise,  in  case  of 
necessity.    Better  I  than  she! 

But  the  necessity  was  inconceivable. 

He  had  really  done  everything  required  of  him,  if  any- 
thing was  really  required,  by  speaking  to  Shrapnel  civilly. 
He  had  spoken  to  Shrapnel  twice. 

Besides,  the  castle  was  being  gladdened  by  happier  tid- 
ings of  Beauchamp.  Gannet  now  pledged  his  word  to  the 
poor  fellow's  recovery,  and  the  earl's  particular  friends  ar- 
rived, and  the  countess  entertained  them.  October  passed 
smoothly. 

She  said  once :  "  Ancestresses  of  yours,  my  lord,  have 
undertaken  pilgrimages  as  acts  of  penance  for  sin,  to  obtain 
heaven's  intercession  in  their  extremity." 

"I  dare  say  they  did,"  he  replied.  "The  monks  got 
round  them." 

^^  It  is  uot  tp  b©  laughed  at,  if  it  eased  their  hearts," 


494  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

Timidly  she  renewed  her  request  for  permission  to  per- 
form the  pilgrimage  to  Be visham. 

"  Wait/^  said  he,  "  till  Nevil  is  on  his  legs." 

"  Have  you  considered  where  I  may  then  be,  Everard  ?  " 

"  My  love,  you  sleep  ^vell,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  You  see  me  every  night." 

"  I  see  you  sound  asleep." 

"  I  see  you  watching  me." 

"Let's  reason,"  said  the  earl;  and  again  they  went 
through  the  argument  upon  the  apology  to  Dr.  Shrapnel. 

He  was  willing  to  indulge  her  in  any  amount  of  it :  and 
she  perceived  why.  Fox  !  she  thought.  Grand  fox,  but  fox 
downright.  For  her  time  was  shortening  to  days  that 
would  leave  her  no  free-will. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  exercise  of  her  free-will  in  a  fast 
resolve  was  growing  all  the  more  a  privilege  that  he  was 
bound  to  respect.  As  she  became  sacreder  and  doubly 
precious  to  him,  the  less  would  he  venture  to  thwart  her, 
though  he  should  think  her  mad.  There  would  be  an 
analogy  between  his  manner  of  regarding  her  and  the  way 
that  superstitious  villagers  look  on  their  crazy  innocents, 
she  thought  sadly.  And  she  bled  for  him  too:  she  grieved 
to  hurt  his  pride.  But  she  had  come  to  imagine  that  there 
was  no  avoidance  of  this  deed  of  personal  humiliation. 

Nevil  had  scrawled  a  note  to  her.  She  had  it  in  her  hand 
one  forenoon  in  mid  November,  when  she  said  to  her  hus- 
band :  "  I  have  ordered  the  carriage  for  two  o'clock  to  meet 
the  quarter  to  three  train  to  London,  and  I  have  sent  Stanton 
on  to  get  the  house  ready  for  us  to-night." 

Lord  Eomfrey  levelled  a  marksman's  eye  at  her. 

"  Why  London  ?  You  know  my  wish  that  it  should  be 
here  at  the  castle." 

"  I  have  decided  to  go  to  Bevisham.  I  have  little  time 
left." 

"  None,  to  my  thinking." 

"  Oh  !  yes ;  my  heart  will  be  light.  I  shall  gain.  You 
come  with  me  to  London  ?  " 

"  You  can't  go." 

"  Don't  attempt  to  reason  with  me,  please,  please  1 " 

"I  command,  madanj," 


QUESTION   OF   PILGREVIAGE  AND  PENANCE        495 

"My  lord,  it  is  past  the  hour  of  commanding." 

He  nodded  his  head,  with  the  eyes  up  amid  the  puckered 
brows,  and  blowing  one  of  his  long  nasal  expirations,  cried, 
"  Here  we  are,  in  for  another  bout  of  argument ! " 

"No;  I  can  bear  the  journey,  rejoice  in  confessing  my 
fault,  but  more  argument  I  cannot  bear.  I  Avill  reason  with 
you  when  I  can  :  submit  to  me  in  this." 

"Feminine  reasoning  !  "  he  interjected. 

"  I  have  nothing  better  to  offer.  It  will  be  prudent  to 
attend  to  me.  Take  my  conduct  for  the  portion  I  bring  you. 
Before  I  put  myself  in  God's  care  I  must  be  clean.  I  am 
unclean.  Language  like  that  offends  you.  I  have  no  better. 
My  reasoning  has  not  touched  you ;  I  am  helpless,  except  in 
this  determination  that  my  contrition  shall  be  expressed  to 
Dr.  Shrapnel.  If  I  am  to  have  life,  to  be  worthy  of  living 
and  being  a  mother,  it  must  be  done.  Now,  my  dear  lord, 
see  that,  and  submit.     You  're  but  one  voice  :  I  am  two." 

He  jumped  off  his  chair,  frowning  up  his  forehead,  and 
staring  awfully  at  the  insulting  prospect.  "  An  apology  to 
the  man  ?     By  you  ?     Away  with  it." 

"  Make  allowances  for  me  if  you  can,  my  dear  lord :  that 
is  what  I  am  going  to  do." 

"My  wife  going  there?"  He  strode  along  furiously. 
"No!" 

"  You  will  not  stop  her." 

"  There  's  a  palsy  in  my  arm  if  I  don't." 

She  plucked  at  her  watch. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  don't  know  you,"  he  said,  coming  close 
to  her.  "  Let 's  reason.  Perhaps  you  overshot  it ;  you  were 
disgusted  with  Shrapnel.  Perhaps  I  w^s  hasty  ;  I  get  fired 
by  an  insult  to  a  woman.  There  was  a  rascal  kissed  a  girl 
once  against  her  will,  and  I  heard  her  cry  out ;  I  laid  him  on 
his  back  for  six  months;  — just  to  tell  you ;  I  'd  do  the  same 
to  lord  or  beggar.  Very  well,  my  dear  heart,  we  '11  own  I 
might  have  looked  into  the  case  when  that  dog  Cecil  .  .  . 
what's  the  matter?" 

"  Speak  on,  my  dear  husband,"  said  Rosamund,  panting. 

"  But  your  making  the  journey  to  Bevisham  is  a  foolish 
notion." 

"Yes?  well?" 

"Well,  we'll  wait.'' 


496  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

"  Oh  !  have  we  to  travel  over  it  all  again  ?  "  she  exclaimed 
in  despair  at  the  dashing  out  of  a  light  she  had  fancied. 
"  You  see  the  wrong.  You  know  the  fever  it  is  in  my  blood, 
and  you  bid  me  wait." 

"  Drop  a  line  to  Nevil." 

"  To  trick  my  conscience !  I  might  have  done  that,  and 
done  well,  once.  Do  you  think  I  dislike  the  task  I  propose 
to  myself  ?  It  is  for  your  sake  that  I  would  shun  it.  As 
for  me,  the  thought  of  going  there  is  an  ecstasy.  I  shall  be 
with  Nevil,  and  be  able  to  look  in  his  face.  And  how  can  I 
be  actually  abasing  you  when  I  am  so  certain  that  I  am 
worthier  of  you  in  what  I  do  ?  " 

Her  exaltation  swept  her  on.  "  Hurry  there,  my  lord,  if 
you  will.  If  you  think  it  prudent  that  you  should  go  in  my 
place,  go :  you  deprive  me  of  a  great  joy,  but  I  will  not  put 
myself  in  your  way,  and  I  consent.  The  chief  sin  was  mine ; 
remember  that.  I  rank  it  viler  than  Cecil  Baskelett's.  And 
listen :  when  —  can  you  reckon  ?  —  when  will  he  confess  his 
wickedness  ?  We  separate  ourselves  from  a  wretch  like 
that." 

"  Pooh,"  quoth  the  earl. 

"  But  you  will  go  ?  "  She  fastened  her  arms  round  the 
arm  nearest :  ^*  You  or  I !  Does  it  matter  which  ?  We  are 
one.  You  speak  for  me ;  I  should  have  been  forced  to  speak 
for  you.  You  spare  me  the  journey.  I  do  not  in  truth  sup- 
pose it  would  have  injured  me ;  but  I  would  not  run  one 
unnecessary  risk." 

Lord  Komfrey  sighed  profoundly.  He  could  not  shake 
her  off.     How  could  he  refuse  her  ? 

How  on  earth  had  it  come  about  that  suddenly  he  was 
expected  to  be  the  person  to  go  ? 

She  would  not  let  him  elude  her ;  and  her  stained  cheeks 
and  her  trembling  on  his  arm  pleaded  most  pressingly  and 
masteringly.  It  might  be  that  she  spoke  with  a  knowledge 
of  her  case.  Positive  it  undoubtedly  was  that  she  meant  to 
go  if  he  did  not.  Perhaps  the  hopes  of  his  House  hung  on 
it.  Having  admitted  that  a  wrong  had  been  done,  he  was 
not  the  man  to  leave  it  unamended ;  only  he  would  have 
chosen  his  time,  and  the  manner.  Since  Nevil's  illness,  too, 
he  had  once  or  twice  been  clouded  with  a  little  bit  of  regret 
at  the  recollection  of  poor  innocent  old  Shrapnel  posted  like 


THE  APOLOGY  TO  DR.   SHRAPNEL  497 

a  figure  of  total  inebriation  beside  the  doorway  of  the  dread- 
ful sick-room. 

There  had  been  women  of  the  earl's  illustrious  House  who 
would  have  given  their  hands  to  the  axe  rather  than  conceal 
a  stain  and  have  to  dread  a  scandal.  His  Eosamund,  after 
all,  was  of  their  pattern ;  even  though  she  blew  that  con- 
science she  prattled  of  into  trifles,  and  swelled  them,  as 
women  of  high  birth  in  this  country,  out  of  the  clutches  of 
the  priests,  do  not  do. 

She  clung  to  him  for  his  promise  to  go. 

He  said,  "Well,  well." 

''  That  means,  you  will,"  said  she. 

His  not  denying  it  passed  for  the  affirmative. 

Then  indeed  she  bloomed  with  love  of  him. 

"  Yet  do  say  yes,"  she  begged. 

"I '11  go,  ma'am,"  shouted  the  earl.  ** I '11  go,  my  love," 
he  said  softly. 


CHAPTER   LIII 

THE   APOLOGY    TO    DR.    SHRAPNEL 

"  You  and  Nevil  are  so  alike,"  Lady  Romf  rey  said  to  her 
lord,  at  some  secret  resemblance  she  detected  and  dwelt  on 
fondly,  when  the  earl  was  on  the  point  of  starting  a  second 
time  for  Bevisham  to  perform  what  she  had  prompted  him 
to  conceive  his  honourable  duty,  without  a  single  intimation 
that  he  loathed  the  task,  neither  shrug  nor  grimace. 

"  Two  ends  of  a  stick  are  pretty  much  alike  :  they  're  all 
that  length  apart,"  said  he,  very  little  in  the  humour  for 
compliments,  however  well  laraced  for  his  work. 

His  wife's  admiring  love  was  pleasant  enough.  He  pre- 
ferred to  have  it  unspoken.  Few  of  us  care  to  be  eulogized 
in  the  act  of  taking  a  nauseous  medical  mixture. 

For  him  the  thing  was  as  good  as  done,  on  his  deciding  to 
think  it  both  adviseable  and  right :  so  he  shouldered  his  load 
and  marched  off  with  it.  He  could  have  postponed  tlie 
right  proceeding,  even  after  the  partial  recognition  of  his 
error ;  —  one  drops  a  word  or  two  by  hazard,  one  expresses 

82  • 


498  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

an  anxiety  to  afford  reparation,  one  sends  a  message,  and  so 
forth,  for  the  satisfaction  of  one's  conventionally  gentlemanly 
feeling:  —  but  the  adviseable  proceeding  under  stress  of 
peculiar  circumstances,  his  clearly-awakened  recognition  of 
that,  impelled  him  unhesitatingly.  His  wife  had  said  it  was 
the  portion  she  brought  him.  Tears  would  not  have  per- 
suaded him  so  powerfully,  that  he  might  prove  to  her  he  was 
glad  of  her  whatever  the  portion  she  brought.  She  was  a 
good  wife,  a  brave  woman,  likely  to  be  an  incomparable 
mother.  At  present  her  very  virtues  excited  her  to  fanciful- 
ness :  nevertheless  she  was  in  his  charge,  and  he  was  bound 
to  break  the  neck  of  his  will,  to  give  her  perfect  peace  of 
mind.  The  child  suffers  from  the  mother's  mental  agitation. 
It  might  be  a  question  of  a  nervous  or  an  idiot  future  Earl 
of  Romfrey.  Better  death  to  the  House  than  such  a 
mockery  of  his  line !  These  reflections  reminded  him  of  the 
heartiness  of  his  whipping  of  that  poor  old  tumbled  sign- 
post Shrapnel,  in  the  name  of  outraged  womankind.  If  there 
was  no  outrage  ? 

Assuredly  if  there  was  no  outrage,  consideration  for  the 
state  of  his  wife  would  urge  him  to  speak  the  apology  in  the 
most  natural  manner  possible.    She  vowed  there  was  none. 

He  never  thought  of  blaming  her  for  forme'rly  deceiving 
him,  nor  of  blaming  her  for  now  expediting  him. 

In  the  presence  of  Colonel  Halkett,  Mr.  Tuckham,  and 
Mr.  Lydiard,  on  a  fine  November  afternoon,  standing  bare- 
headed in  the  fir-bordered  garden  of  the  cottage  on  the  com- 
mon, Lord  Eomfrey  delivered  his  apology  to  Dr.  Shrapnel, 
and  he  said,  — 

"I  call  you  to  witness,  gentlemen,  I  offer  Dr.  Shrapnel 
the  fullest  reparation  he  may  think  fit  to  demand  of  me  for 
an  unprovoked  assault  on  him,  that  I  find  was  quite  unjusti- 
fied, and  for  which  I  am  here  to  ask  his  forgiveness." 

Speech  of  man  could  not  have  been  more  nobly  uttered.    , 

Dr.  Shrapnel  replied,  — 

"To  the  half  of  that,  sir  —  'tis  over!  What  remains  is 
done  with  the  hand." 

He  stretched  his  hand  out. 

Lord  Romfrey  closed  his  own  on  it. 

The  antagonists,  between  whom  was  no  pretence  of  their 
being  other  after  the  performance  of  a  creditable  ceremony, 


THE  APOLOGY  TO  DR.    SHRAPNEL  499 

bowed  and  exchanged  civil  remarks :  and  then  Lord  Rom- 
frey  was  invited  to  go  into  the  house  and  see  Beauchamp, 
who  happened  to  be  sitting  with  Cecilia  Halkett  and  Jenny 
Denham.  Beauchamp  was  thin,  pale,  and  quiet;  but  the 
sight  of  him  standing  and  conversing  after  that  scene  of  the 
skinny  creature  struggling  with  bare-ribbed  obstruction  on 
the  bed,  was  an  example  of  constitutional  vigour  and  a  com- 
pliment to  the  family  very  gratifying  to  Lord  Romfrey. 
Excepting  by  Cecilia,  the  earl  was  coldly  received.  He  had 
to  leave  early  by  special  express  for  London  to  catch  the 
last  train  to  Romfrey.  Beauchamp  declined  to  fix  a  day 
for  his  visit  to  the  castle  with  Lydiard,  but  proposed  that 
Lydiard  should  accompany  the  earl  on  his  return.  Lydiard 
was  called  in,  and  at  once  accepted  the  earl's  invitation,  and 
quitted  the  room  to  pack  his  portmanteau. 

A  faint  sign  of  firm-shutting  shadowed  the  corners  of 
Jenny's  lips. 

"  You  have  brought  my  nephew  to  life,"  Lord  Romfrey 
said  to  her. 

*^  My  share  in  it  was  very  small,  my  lord." 

"Gannet  says  that  your  share  in  it  was  very  great." 

"  And  I  say  so,  with  the  authority  of  a  witness,"  added 
Cecilia. 

"  And  I,  from  my  experience,"  came  from  Beauchamp. 

His  voice  had  a  hollow  sound,  unlike  his  natural  voice. 

The  earl  looked  at  him  remembering  the  bright  laughing 
lad  he  had  once  been,  and  said  :  "  Why  not  try  a  month  of 
Madeira  ?     You  have  only  to  step  on  board  the  boat." 

"  I  don't  want  to  lose  a  month  of  my  friend,"  said  Beau- 
champ. 

"Take  your  friend  with  you.  After  these  fevers  our 
Winters  are  bad." 

"  I  've  been  idle  too  long." 

"But,  Captain  Beauchamp,"  said  Jenny,  "you  proposed 
to  do  nothing  but  read  for  a  couple  of  years." 

"  Ay,  there 's  the  voyage !  "  sighed  he,  with  a  sailor- 
invalid's  vision  of  sunny  seas  dancing  in  the  far  sky.  "  You 
must  persuade  Dr.  Shrapnel  to  come ;  and  he  will  not  come 
unless  you  come  too,  and  you  won't  go  anywhere  but  to  the 
Alps  ! " 

She  bept  her  eyes  on  the  floor.     Beauchamp  remembered 


600  BEATJCHAMP*S  CAREER 

what  had  brought  her  home  from  the  Alps.  He  cast  a  cold 
look  on  his  uncle  talking  with  Cecilia:  granite,  as  he 
thought.  And  the  reflux  of  that  slight  feeling  of  despair 
seemed  to  tear  down  with  it  in  wreckage  every  effort  he 
had  made  in  life,  and  cry  failure  on  him.  Yet  he  was 
hoping  that  he  had  not  been  created  for  failure. 

He  touched  his  uncle's  hand  indifferently :  "  My  love  to 
the  countess :  let  me  hear  of  her,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"You  shall,"  said  the  earl.  "But,  off  to  Madeira,  and  up 
Teneriffe :  sail  the  Azores.  I  '11  hire  you  a  good-sized 
schooner." 

"  There  is  the  Esperanza,''^  said  Cecilia.  "  And  the  ves- 
sel is  lying  idle,  Nevil  !     Can  you  allow  it  ?  " 

He  consented  to  laugh  at  himself,  and  fell  to  coughing. 

Jenny  Denham  saw  a  real  human  expression  of  anxiety 
cross  the  features  of  the  earl  at  the  sound  of  the  cough. 

Lord  Romf rey  said  "  Adieu  "  to  her. 

He  offered  her  his  hand,  which  she  contrived  to  avoid 
taking  by  dropping  a  formal  half-reverence. 

"  Think  of  the  Esperanza ;  she  will  be  coasting  her 
nominal  native  land !  and  adieu  for  to-day,"  Cecilia  said  to 
Beauchamp. 

Jenny  Denham  and  he  stood  at  the  window  to  watch  the 
leave-taking  in  the  garden,  for  a  distraction.  They  inter- 
changed no  remark  of  surprise  at  seeing  the  earl  and  Dr. 
Shrapnel  hand-locked:  but  Jenny's  heart  reproached  her 
uncle  for  being  actually  servile,  and  Beauchamp  accused  the 
earl  of  aristocratic  impudence. 

Both  were  overcome  with  remorse  when  Colonel  Halkett, 
putting  his  head  into  the  room  to  say  good-bye  to  Beau- 
champ and  place  the  Esperanza  at  his  disposal  for  a  Winter 
cruise,  chanced  to  mention  in  two  or  three  half  words  the 
purpose  of  the  earl's  visit,  and  what  had  occurred.  He  took 
it  for  known  already. 

To  Miss  Denham  he  remarked :  "  Lord  Romf rey  is  very 
much  concerned  about  your  health ;  he  fears  you  have  over- 
done it  in  nursing  Captain  Beauchamp." 

"  I  must  be  off  after  him,"  said  Beauchamp,  and  began 
trembling  so  that  he  could  not  stir. 

The  colonel  knew  the  pain  and  shame  of  that  condition 
of  weakness  to  a  man  who  has  been  strong  and  swift,  and 


THE  FRUITS   OF  THE  APOLOGY  501 

said :  "  Seven-league  boots  are  not  to  be  caught.  You  '11  see 
him  soon.  Why,  I  thought  some  letter  of  yours  had  fetched 
him  here !     I  gave  you  all  the  credit  of  it." 

"  No,  he  deserves  it  all  himself  —  all,''  said  Beauchamp  : 
and  with  a  dubious  eye  on  Jenny  Denham :  "  You  see,  we 
were  unfair." 

The  "  we  "  meant "  you  "  to  her  sensitiveness ;  and  probably 
he  did  mean  it  for  "you; "  for  as  he  would  have  felt,  so  he 
supposed  that  his  uncle  must  have  felt,  Jenny's  coldness 
was  much  the  crueller.  Her  features,  which  in  animation 
were  summer  light  playing  upon  smooth  water,  could  be 
exceedingly  cold  in  repose  :  the  icier  to  those  who  knew  her, 
because  they  never  expressed  disdain.  No  expression  of 
the  baser  sort  belonged  to  them.  Beauchamp  was  intimate 
with  these  delicately  cut  features ;  he  would  have  shuddered 
had  they  chilled  on  him.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  his 
uncle  ;  he  fancied  she  ought  to  have  done  so  too  ;  and  from 
his  excess  of  sympathy  he  found  her  deficient  in  it. 

He  sat  himself  down  to  write  a  hearty  letter  to  his  "  dear 
old  uncle  Everard." 

Jenny  left  him,  to  go  to  her  chamber  and  cry. 


CHAPTER  LIV 

THE  FRUITS  OF  THE  APOLOGY 

This  clear  heart  had  cause  for  tears.  Her  just  indignation 
with  Lord  Bomf rey  had  sustained  her  artificially  hitherto ; 
now  that  it  was  erased,  she  sank  down  to  weep.  Her  sen- 
timents toward  Lydiard  had  been  very  like  Cecilia  Halkett's 
in  favour  of  Mr.  Austin;  with  something  more  to  warm 
them  on  the  part  of  the  gentleman.  He  first  had  led  her 
mind  in  the  direction  of  balanced  thought,  when,  despite 
her  affection  for  Dr.  Shrapnel,  her  timorous  maiden  wits, 
unable  to  contend  with  the  copious  exclamatory  old  politi- 
cian, opposed  him  silently.  Lydiard  had  helped  her  tongue 
to  speak,  as  well  as  her  mind  to  rational  views  ;  and  there 
had  been  a  bond  of  union  in  common  for  them   in   his 


502 

admiration  of  her  father's  writings.  She  had  known  that 
he  was  miserably  yoked,  and  had  respected  him  when  he 
seemed  inclined  for  compassion  without  wooing  her  for 
tenderness.  He  had  not  trifled  with  her,  hardly  flattered ; 
he  had  done  no  more  than  kindle  a  young  girl's  imaginative 
liking.  The  pale  flower  of  imagination,  fed  by  dews,  not 
by  sunshine,  was  born  drooping,  and  hung  secret  in  her 
bosom,  shy  as  a  bell  of  the  frail  wood-sorrel.  Yet  there 
was  pain  for  her  in  the  perishing  of  a  thing  so  poor  and 
lowly.  She  had  not  observed  the  change  in  Lydiard  after 
Beauchamp  came  on  the  scene :  and  that  may  tell  us  how 
passionlessly  pure  the  little  maidenly  sentiment  was.  For 
do  but  look  on  the  dewy  wood-sorrel  flower  ;  it  is  not  violet 
or  rose  inviting  hands  to  pluck  it :  still  it  is  there,  happy 
in  the  woods.  And  Jenny's  feeling  was  that  a  foot  had 
crushed  it. 

She  wept,  thinking  confusedly  of  Lord  Komfrey ;  trying 
to  think  he  had  made  his  amends  tardily,  and  that  Beau- 
champ  prized  him  too  highly  for  the  act.  She  had  no 
longer  anything  to  resent:  she  was  obliged  to  weep.  In 
truth,  as  the  earl  had  noticed,  she  was  physically  depressed 
by  the  strain  of  her  protracted  watch  over  Beauchamp,  as 
well  as  rather  heartsick. 

But  she  had  been  of  aid  and  use  in  saving  him !  She  was 
not  quite  a  valueless  person ;  sweet,  too,  was  the  thought 
that  he  consulted  her,  listened  to  her,  weighed  her  ideas. 
He  had  evidently  taken  to  study  her,  as  if  dispersing  some 
wonderment  that  one  of  her  sex  should  have  ideas.  He  had 
repeated  certain  of  her  own  which  had  been  forgotten  by 
her.  His  eyes  were  often  on  her  with  this  that  she  thought 
humorous  intentness.  She  smiled.  She  had  assisted  in 
raising  him  from  his  bed  of  sickness,  whereof  the  memory 
affrighted  her  and  melted  her.  The  difiiculty  now  was  to 
keep  him  indoors,  and  why  he  would  not  go  even  tempo- 
rarily to  a  large  house  like  Mount  Laurels,  whither  Colonel 
Halkett  was  daily  requesting  him  to  go,  she  was  unable 
to  comprehend.  His  love  of  Dr.  Shrapnel  might  account 
for  it. 

"  Own,  Jenny,"  said  Beauchamp,  springing  up  to  meet 
her  as  she  entered  the  room  where  he  and  Dr.  Shrapnel  sat 
discussing  Lord  Romfrey's  bearing  at  his  visit,  "  own  that 


THE  FRUITS   OF  THE  APOLOGY  503 

my  uncle  Everard  is  a  true  nobleman.  He  has  to  make  the 
round  to  the  right  mark,  but  he  comes  to  it.  /  could  not 
move  him  —  and  I  like  him  the  better  for  that.  He  worked 
round  to  it  himself.  I  ought  to  have  been  sure  he  would. 
You  're  right :  I  break  my  head  with  impatience." 

"  No  ;  you  sowed  seed,"  said  Dr.  Shrapnel.  "  Heed  not 
that  girl,  my  Beauchamp.  The  old  woman  's  in  the  Tory, 
and  the  Tory  leads  the  young  maid.  Here 's  a  fable  I  draw 
from  a  Naturalist's  book,  and  we  '11  set  it  against  the  dicta 
of  Jenny  Donothing,  Jenny  Discretion,  Jenny  Wait-for-the- 
Gods  :  — Once  upon  a  time  in  a  tropical  island  a  man  lay 
sick  ;  so  ill  that  he  could  not  rise  to  trouble  his  neighbours 
for  help ;  so  weak  that  it  was  lifting  a  mountain  to  get  up 
from  his  bed  ;  so  hopeless  of  succour  that  the  last  spark  of 
distraught  wisdom  perching  on  his  brains  advised  him  to  lie 
where  he  was  and  trouble  not  himself,  since  peace  at  least 
he  could  command,  before  he  passed  upon  the  black  high- 
road men  call  our  kingdom  of  peace  :  ay,  he  lay  there.  Now 
it  chanced  that  this  man  had  a  mess  to  cook  for  his  nourish- 
ment. And  life  said.  Do  it,  and  death  said,  To  what  end  ? 
He  wrestled  with  the  stark  limbs  of  death,  and  cooked  the 
mess  ;  and  that  done  he  had  no  strength  remaining  to  him 
to  consume  it,  but  crept  to  his  bed  like  the  toad  into  winter. 
Now,  meanwhile  a  steam  arose  from  the  mess,  and  he  lay 
stretched.  So  it  befel  that  the  birds  of  prey  of  the  region 
scented  the  mess,  and  they  descended  and  thronged  at  that 
man's  windows.  And  the  man's  neighbours  looked  up  at 
them,  for  it  was  the  sign  of  one  who  is  fit  for  the  beaks  of 
birds,  lying  unburied.  Fail  to  spread  the  pall  one  hour 
where  suns  are  decisive,  and  the  pall  comes  down  out  of 
heaven !  They  said.  The  man  is  dead  within.  And  they 
went  to  his  room,  and  saw  him  and  succoured  him.  They 
lifted  him  out  of  death  by  the  last  uncut  thread. 

"  Now,  my  Jenny  Weigh-words,  Jenny  Halt-there !  was  it 
they  who  saved  the  man,  or  he  that  saved  himself  ?  The 
man  taxed  his  expiring  breath  to  sow  seed  of  life.  Lydiard 
shall  put  it  into  verse  for  a  fable  in  song  for  our  people.  I 
say  it  is  a  good  fable,  and  sung  spiritedly  may  serve  for 
nourishment,  and  faith  in  work,  to  many  of  our  poor  faint- 
ing fellows  !     Now  you  ?  " 

Jenny  said :  "  I  think  it  is  a  good  fable  of  self-help.    Does 


504 

it  quite  illustrate  the  case  ?  I  mean,  the  virtue  of  impa- 
tience. But  I  like  the  fable  and  the  moral ;  and  I  think  it 
would  do  good  if  it  were  made  popular,  though  it  would  be 
hard  to  condense  it  to  a  song/* 

"  It  would  be  hard !  ay,  then  we  do  it  forthwith.  And 
you  shall  compose  the  music.  As  for  the  'case  of  im- 
patience,' my  dear,  you  tether  the  soaring  universal  to  your 
pet-lamb's  post,  the  special.  I  spoke  of  seed  sown.  I  spoke 
of  the  fruits  of  energy  and  resolution.  Cared  I  for  an 
apology  ?  I  took  the  blows  as  I  take  hail  from  the  clouds 
—  which  apologize  to  you  the  moment  you  are  in  shelter,  if 
you  laugh  at  them.  So,  good  night  to  that  matter !  Are 
we  to  have  rain  this  evening  ?  I  must  away  into  Bevisham 
to  the  Workmen's  Hall,  and  pay  the  men." 

"  There  will  not  be  rain ;  there  will  be  frost,  and  you 
must  be  well  wrapped  if  you  must  go,"  said  Jenny.  "  And 
tell  them  not  to  think  of  deputations  to  Captain  Beau- 
champ  yet." 

"  Ko,  no  deputations  ;  let  them  send  Killick,  if  they  want 
to  say  anything,"  said  Beauchamp. 

"  Wrong  !  "  the  doctor  cried  !  "  wrong  !  wrong  !  Six  men 
won't  hurt  you  more  than  one.  And  why  check  them  when 
their  feelings  are  up  ?  They  burn  to  be  speaking  some 
words  to  you.  Trust  me,  Beauchamp,  if  we  shun  to  en- 
counter the  good  warm  soul  of  numbers,  our  hearts  are 
narrowed  to  them.  The  business  of  our  modern  world  is  to 
open  heart  and  stretch  out  arms  to  numbers.  In  numbers 
we  have  our  sinews ;  they  are  our  iron  and  gold.  Scatter 
them  not ;  teach  them  the  secret  of  cohesion.  Practically, 
since  they  gave  you  not  their  entire  confidence  once,  you 
should  not  rebuff  them  to  suspicions  of  you  as  aristocrat, 
when  they  rise  on  the  effort  to  believe  a  man  of,  as  't  is 
called,  birth  their  undivided  friend.     Meet  them  !  " 

"  Send  them,"  said  Beauchamp. 

Jenny  Denham  fastened  a  vast  cloak  and  a  comforter  on 
the  doctor's  heedless  shoulders  and  throat,  enjoining  on 
him  to  return  in  good  time  for  dinner. 

He  put  his  finger  to  her  cheek  in  reproof  of  such  super- 
erogatory counsel  to  a  man  famous  for  his  punctuality. 

The  day  had  darkened. 

Beauchamp  begged  Jenny  to  play  to  him  on  the  piano. 


THE  FEUITS   OF  THE  APOLOGY  505 

^*Do  you  indeed  care  to  have  music?"  said  she.  "I 
did  not  wish  you  to  meet  a  deputation,  because  your  strength 
is  not  yet  equal  to  it.  Dr.  Shrapnel  dwells  on  principles, 
forgetful  of  minor  considerations." 

"  I  wish  thousands  did  !  "  cried  Beauchamp.  ''  When 
you  play  I  seem  to  hear  ideas.  Your  music  makes  me 
think." 

Jenny  lit  a  pair  of  candles  and  set  them  on  the  piano. 
"  Waltzes  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Call  in  a  puppet-show  at  once  !  " 

She  smiled,  turned  over  some  leaves,  and  struck  the 
opening  notes  of  the  Ninth  Symphony  of  Beethoven  and 
made  her  selections. 

At  the  finish,  he  said :  "  Now  read  me  your  father's  poem, 
*  The  Hunt  of  the  Fates.'  " 

She  read  it  to  him. 

"  Now  read,  *  The  Ascent  from  the  Inferno  J  " 

That  she  read :  and  also  "  Soul  and  Brute,''  another  of 
his  favourites. 

He  wanted  more,  and  told  her  to  read  "  First  Love  — 
Last  LoveP 

"  I  fear  I  have  not  the  tone  of  voice  for  love-poems," 
Jenny  said,  returning  the  book  to  him. 

"I '11  read  it,"  said  he. 

He  read  with  more  impressiveness  than  effect.  Lydiard*s 
leadiDg  thrilled  her :  Beauchamp's  insisted  too  much  on 
particular  lines.  But  it  was  worth  while  observing  him. 
She  saw  him  always  as  in  a  picture,  remote  from  herself. 
His  loftier  social  station  and  strange  character  precluded 
any  of  those  keen  suspicions  by  which  women  learn  that  a 
fire  is  beginning  to  glow  near  them. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  have  known  your  father  !  "  he 
said.  "  I  don't  wonder  at  Dr.  Shrapnel's  love  of  him. 
Yes,  he  was  one  of  the  great  men  of  his  day  !  and  it 's  a 
higher  honour  to  be  of  his  blood  than  any  that  rank  can 
give.  You  were  ten  years  old  when  you  lost  him.  Describe 
him  to  me." 

"  He  used  to  play  with  me  like  a  boy,"  said  Jenny.  She 
described  her  father  from  a  child's  recollection  of  him. 

"  Dr.  Shrapnel  declares  he  would  have  been  one  of  the 
first  surgeons  in  Europe  :  and  he  was  one  of  the  first  of 


506 

poets,"  Beauchamp  pursued  with  enthusiasm.  "  So  he  was 
doubly  great.  I  hold  a  good  surgeon  to  be  in  the  front 
rank  of  public  benefactors  —  where  they  put  rich  brewers, 
bankers,  and  speculative  manufacturers  now.  Well !  the 
world  is  young.  We  shall  alter  that  in  time.  Whom  did 
your  father  marry  ?  " 

Jenny  answered,  "  My  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a 
London  lawyer.  She  married  without  her  father's  approval 
of  the  match,  and  he  left  her  nothing." 

Beauchamp  interjected  :  "Lawyer's  money  !  " 

"It  would  have  been  useful  to  my  mother's  household 
when  I  was  an  infant,"  said  Jenny. 

"Poor  soul!  I  suppose  so.  Yes;  \%ell,"  Beauchamp 
sighed.  "  Money  !  never  mind  how  it  comes.  We  're  in 
such  a  primitive  condition  that  we  catch  at  anything  to 
keep  us  out  of  the  cold ;  —  dogs  with  a  bone  !  —  instead  of 
living,  as  Dr.  Shrapnel  prophesies,  for  and  with  one  an- 
other. It 's  war  now,  and  money  's  the  weapon  of  war. 
And  we  're  the  worst  nation  in  Europe  for  that.  But  if 
we  fairly  recognize  it,  we  shall  be  the  first  to  alter  our 
ways.  There  's  the  point.  Well,  Jenny,  I  can  look  you  in 
the  face  to-night.     Thanks  to  my  uncle  Everard  at  last!  " 

"  Captain  Beauchamp,  you  have  never  been  blamed." 

"  I  am  Captain  Beauchamp  by  courtesy,  in  public.  My 
friends  call  me  Nevil.  I  think  I  have  heard  the  name  on 
your  lips  ?  " 

"  When  you  were  very  ill." 

He  stood  closer  to  her,  very  close. 

"  Which  was  the  arm  that  bled  for  me  ?  May  I  look  at 
it  ?     There  was  a  bruise." 

"  Have  you  not  forgotten  that  trifle  ?  There  is  the 
faintest  possible   mark   of  it   left." 

"  I  wish  to  see." 

She  gently  defended  the  arm,  but  he  made  it  so  much  a 
matter  of  earnest  to  see  the  bruise  of  the  old  Election  mis- 
sile on  her  fair  arm,  that,  with  a  pardonable  soft  blush,  to 
avoid  making  much  of  it  herself,  she  turned  her  sleeve  a 
little  above  the  wrist.     He  took  her  hand. 

"  It  was  for  me !  " 

"  It  was  quite  an  accident :  no  harm  was  intended." 

"  But  it  was  in  my  cause  —  for  me  !" 


THE  FEUITS   OF  THE  APOLOGY  507 

"Indeed,  Captain  Beauchamp  .  .  ." 

"Nevil,  we  say  indoors." 

"  Nevil  —  but  is  it  not  wiser  to  say  what  comes  naturally 
to  us  ?  " 

"  Who  told  you  to-day  that  you  had  brought  me  to  life  ? 
I  am  here — to  prove  it  true.  If  I  had  paid  attention  to 
your  advice,  I  should  not  have  gone  into  the  cottage  of  those 
poor  creatures  and  taken  away  the  fever.  I  did  no  good 
there.  But  the^  man's  wife  said  her  husband  had  been 
ruined  by  voting  for  me  :  and  it  was  a  point  of  honour  to  go 
'in  and  sit  with  him.  You  are  not  to  have  your  hand  back : 
it  is  mine.  Don't  you  remember,  Jenny,  how  you  gave  me 
your  arm  on  the  road  when  I  staggered,  two  days  before 
the  fever  knocked  me  over  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I 
thought  then  ?  I  thought  that  he  who  could  have  you  for 
a  mate  would  have  the  bravest  and  helpfullest  wife  in  all 
England.  And  not  a  mere  beauty,  for  you  have  good  looks  : 
but  you  have  the  qualities  I  have  been  in  search  of.  Why 
do  your  eyes  look  so  mournfully  at  me  ?  I  am  full  of  hope. 
We  '11  sail  the  Esperanza  for  the  Winter :  you  and  I,  and 
our  best  friend  with  us.  And  you  shall  have  a  voice  in  the 
council,  be  sure." 

"  If  you  are  two  to  one  ?  "  Jenny  said  quickly,  to  keep 
from  faltering. 

Beauchamp  pressed  his  mouth  to  the  mark  of  the  bruise 
on  her  arm.     He  held  her  fast. 

"  I  mean  it,  if  you  will  join  me,  that  you  and  I  should 
rejoice  the  heart  of  the  dear  old  man  —  will  you  ?  He  has 
been  brooding  over  your  loneliness  here  if  you  are  unmar- 
ried, ever  since  his  recovery.  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  and 
every  debt  of  gratitude  to  him.     Now,  Jenny  ! " 

"Oh!  Captain  Beauchamp  —  Nevil,  if  you  will  ...  if  I 
may  have  my  hand.  You  exaggerate  common  kindness. 
He  loves  you.     We  both  esteem  you." 

"  But  you  don't  love  me  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  be  unable  to  support 
myself,  if  I  am  left  alone." 

"  But  I  want  your  help.  I  wake  from  illness  with  my 
eyes  open.  I  must  have  your  arm  to  lean  on  now  and 
then," 

Jenny  dropped  a  shivering  sigh. 


508  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

*'  Uncle  is  long  absent ! "  she  said. 

Her  hand  was  released.     Beauchamp  inspected  his  watch. 

"He  may  have  fallen!  He  may  be  lying  on  the  com- 
mon ! '' 

'^Oh !  *'  cried  Jenny,  **  why  did  I  let  him  go  out  without 
me?" 

"  Let  me  have  his  lantern ;  I  '11  go  and  search  over  the 
common.'' 

"  You  must  not  go  out,"  said  she. 

"  I  must.    The  old  man  may  be  perishing." 

"  It  will  be  death  to  you  .  .  .  Nevil ! " 

"That 's  foolish.     I  can  stand  the  air  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  I  '11  go,"  said  Jenny. 

"  Unprotected  ?     No." 

"  Cook  shall  come  with  me." 

"  Two  women  ! " 

"Nevil,  if  you  care  a  little  for  me,  be  good,  be  kind, 
submit." 

"  He  is  half  an  hour  behind  dinner-time,  and  he  's  never 
late.  Something  must  have  happened  to  him.  Way  for 
me,  my  dear  girl." 

She  stood  firm  between  him  and  the  door.  It  came  to 
pass  that  she  stretched  her  hands  to  arrest  him,  and  he 
seized  the  hands. 

"Eather  than  you  should  go  out  in  this  cold  weather, 
anything  ! "  she  said,  in  the  desperation  of  physical  in- 
ability to  hold  him  back. 

"Ah!"  Beauchamp  crossed  his  arms  round  her.  "I'll 
wait  for  five  minutes." 

One  went  by,  with  Jenny  folded,  broken  and  sobbing, 
senseless,  against  his  breast. 

They  had  not  heard  Dr.  Shrapnel  quietly  opening  the 
hall  door  and  hanging  up  his  hat.     He  looked  in. 

"Beauchamp  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Come,  doctor,"  said  Beauchamp,  and  loosened  his  clasp 
of  Jenny  considerately. 

She  disengaged  herself. 

"  Beauchamp  !  now  I  die  a  glad  man." 

"  Witness,  doctor,  she  's  mine  by  her  own  confession." 

"  Uncle  !  "  Jenny  gasped.  "  Oh !  Captain  Beauchamp, 
what  an  error !   what  delusion !  .  .  .  Forget  it.      I   will. 


WITHOUT  LOVE  509 

Here  are  more  misunderstandings  !  You  shall  be  excused. 
But  be  .  .  ." 

"Be  you  the  blessedest  woman  alive  on  this  earth,  my 
Jenny !  "  shouted  Dr.  Shrapnel.  "  You  have  the  choice 
man  on  all  the  earth  for  husband,  sweetheart !  Ay,  of  all 
the  earth  !  I  go  with  a  message  for  my  old  friend  Harry 
Denham,  to  quicken  him  in  the  grave  ;  for  the  husband  of 
his  girl  is  Nevil  Beauchamp !  The  one  thing  I  dared  not 
dream  of  thousands  is  established.     Sunlight,  my  Jenny  ! '' 

Beauchamp  kissed  her  hand. 

She  slipped  away  to  her  chamber,  grovelling  to  find  her 
diminished  self  somewhere  in  the  mid-thunder  of  her  amaze- 
ment, as  though  it  were  to  discover  a  pin  on  the  floor  by 
the  flash  of  lightning.     Where  was  she  ! 

This  ensued  from  the  apology  of  Lord  Eomfrey  to  Dr. 
Shrapnel. 


CHAPTEB,  LV 

WITHOUT   LOVE 


At  the  end  of  November,  Jenny  Denham  wrote  these  lines 
to  Mr.  Lydiard,  in  reply  to  his  request  that  she  should 
furnish  the  latest  particulars  of  Nevil  Beauchamp,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  the  Countess  of  Eomfrey  :  — 

**  There  is  everything  to  reassure  Lady  Eomfrey  in  the 
state  of  Captain  Beauchamp's  health,  and  I  have  never  seen 
him  so  placidly  happy  as  he  has  been  since  the  arrival,  yes- 
terday morning,  of  a  lady  from  France,  Madame  la  Mar- 
quise de  Eouaillout,  with  her  brother,  M.  le  Comte  de 
Croisnel.  Her  husband,  I  hear  from  M.  de  Croisnel,  dreads 
our  climate  and  coffee  too  much  to  attempt  the  voyage.  I 
understand  that  she  writes  to  Lady  Eomfrey  to-day.  Lady 
Eomfrey's  letter  to  her,  informing  her  of  Captain  Beau- 
champ's  alarming  illness,  went  the  round  from  Normandy 
to  Touraine  and  Dauphiny,  otherwise  she  would  have  come 
over  earlier. 

"  Her  first  inquiry  of  me  was,  *  II  est  mort  ? '  You  would 
have  supposed  her  disappointed  by  my  answer.     A  light 


510 

went  out  in  her  eyes,  like  that  of  a  veilleuse  in  the  dawn. 
She  looked  at  me  without  speaking,  while  her  beautiful 
eyes  regained  their  natural  expression.  She  shut  them  and 
sighed.  '  Tell  him  that  M.  de  Croisnel  and  his  sister  are 
here.' 

^^  This  morning  her  wish  to  see  Miss  Halkett  was  grati- 
fied. You  know  my  taste  was  formed  in  France ;  I  agree 
with  Captain  Beauchamp  in  his  more  than  admiration  of 
Frenchwomen ;  ours,  though  more  accomplished,  are  colder 
and  less  plastic.  But  Miss  Halkett  is  surpassingly  beauti- 
ful, very  amiable,  very  generous,  a  perfect  friend.  She  is 
our  country  at  its  best.  Probably  she  is  shy  of  speaking 
French ;  she  frequently  puts  the  Italian  accent.  Madame 
de  Rouaillout  begged  to  speak  with  her  alone:  I  do  not 
know  what  passed.     Miss  Halkett  did  not  return  to  us. 

"vDr.  Shrapnel  and  Captain  Beauchamp  have  recently 
been  speculating  on  our  becoming  a  nation  of  artists,  and 
authorities  in  science  and  philosophy,  by  the  time  our  coal- 
fields and  material  wealth  are  exhausted.  That,  and  the 
cataclysm,  are  their  themes. 

"  They  say,  will  things  end  utterly  ?  —  all  our  gains  be 
lost?  The  question  seems  to  me  to  come  of  that  love 
of  earth  which  is  recognition  of  God :  for  if  they  cannot 
reconcile  themselves  to  believe  in  extinction,  to  what  must 
they  be  looking  ?  It  is  a  confirmation  of  your  saying,  that 
love  leads  to  God,  through  art  or  in  acts. 

"  You  will  regret  to  hear  that  the  project  of  Captain 
Beauchamp's  voyage  is  in  danger  of  being  abandoned.  A 
committee  of  a  vacant  Eadical  borough  has  offered  to 
nominate  him.  My  influence  is  weak ;  madame  would  have 
him  go  back  with  her  and  her  brother  to  Normandy.  My 
influence  is  weak,  I  suppose,  because  he  finds  me  constantly 
leaning  to  expediency  —  I  am  your  pupil.  It  may  be  quite 
correct  that  powder  is  intended  for  explosion :  we  do  not 
therefore  apply  a  spark  to  the  barrel.  I  ventured  on  that. 
He  pitied  me  in  the  snares  of  simile  and  metaphor.  He  is 
the  same,  you  perceive.  How  often  have  we  not  discussed 
what  would  have  become  of  him,  with  that  ^  rocket  brain '  of 
his,  in  less  quiet  times !  Yet,  when  he  was  addressing  a 
deputation  of  workmen  the  other  day,  he  recommended 
patience  to  them  as  one  of  the  virtues  that  count  under  wis- 


WITHOUT  LOVE  511 

dom.  He  is  curiously  impatient  for  knowledge.  One  of  Ms 
reasons  for  not  accepting  Colonel  Halkett's  offer  of  his 
yacht  is,  that  he  will  not  be  able  to  have  books  enough  on 
board.  Definite  instead  of  vast  and  hazy  duties  are  to  be 
desired  for  him,  I  think.  Most  fervently  I  pray  that  he 
will  obtain  a  ship  and  serve  some  years.  At  the  risk  of  your 
accusing  me  of  ^  sententious  posing,'  I  would  say,  that  men 
who  do  not  live  in  the  present  ctiefiy,  but  hamper  them- 
selves with  giant  tasks  in  excess  of  alarm  for  the  future, 
however  devoted  and  noble  they  may  be  —  and  he  is  an  ex- 
ample of  one  that  is  —  reduce  themselves  to  the  dimensions 
of  pigmies ;  they  have  the  cry  of  infants.  You  reply,  Fore- 
sight is  an  element  of  love  of  country  and  mankind.  But 
how  often  is  not  the  foresight  guess-work  ? 

*'  He  has  not  spoken  of  the  Dawn  project.  To-day  he 
is  repeating  one  of  uncle's  novelties  —  ^  Sultry  Tories.' 
The  sultry  Tory  sits  in  the  sun  and  prophesies  woefully  of 
storm,  it  appears.  Your  accusation  that  I  am  one  at  heart 
amuses  me  ;  I  am  not  quite  able  to  deny  it.  ^  Sultriness '  I 
am  not  conscious  of.  But  it  would  appear  to  be  an  epithet 
for  the  Conservatives  of  wealth.  So  that  England,  being 
very  wealthy,  we  are  to  call  it  a  sultry  country  ?  You  are 
much  wanted,  for  where  there  is  no  '  middleman  Liberal '  to 
hold  the  scales  for  them,  these  two  have  it  all  their  own 
way,  which  is  not  good  for  them.  Captain  Beauchamp 
quotes  you  too.  It  seems  that  you  once  talked  to  him  of  a 
machine  for  measuring  the  force  of  blows  delivered  with  the 
fist,  and  compared  his  efforts  to  those  of  one  perpetually 
practising  at  it :  and  this  you  are  said  to  have  called  — 
'  The  case  of  the  Constitutional  Eealm  and  the  extreme 
Eadical.^  Elsewhere  the  Eadical  smites  at  iron  or  rotten 
wood ;  in  England  it  is  a  cushion  on  springs.  Did  you  say 
it  ?    He  quotes  it  as  yours,  lialf  acquiescingly,  and  ruefully. 

^^For  visitors,  we  have  had  Captain  Baskelett  for  two 
minutes,  and  Lord  Palmet,  who  stayed  longer,  and  seems  to 
intend  to  come  daily.  He  attempts  French  with  Madame 
de  E.,  and  amuses  her  a  little :  a  silver  foot  and  a  ball  of 
worsted.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grancey  Lespel  have  called,  and 
Lord  and  Lady  Croyston.  Colonel  Halkett,  Miss  Halkett, 
and  Mr.  Tuckham  come  frequently.  Captain  Beauchamp 
spoke  to  her  yesterday  of  her  marriage. 


512  BBAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

"Madame  de  R.  leaves  us  to-morrow.  Her  brother  is  a 
delightful,  gay-tempered,  very  handsome  boyish  Frenchman 
—  not  her  equal,  to  my  mind,  for  I  do  not  think  Frenchmen 
comparable  to  the  women  of  France  ;  but  she  is  exceedingly 
grave,  with  hardly  a  smile,  and  his  high  spirits  excite 
Nevil's,  so  it  is  pleasant  to  see  them  together." 

The  letter  was  handed  to  Lady  Romfrey.  She  read 
through  it  thoughtfully  till  she  came  to  the  name  of  Nevil, 
when  she  frowned.  On  the  morrow  she  pronounced  it  a 
disingenuous  letter.     Renee  had  sent  her  these  lines  :  — 

"  I  should  come  to  you  if  my  time  were  not  restricted ; 
my  brother's  leave  of  absence  is  short.  I  have  done  here 
what  lay  in  my  power,  to  show  you  I  have  learnt  something 
in  the  school  of  self-immolation.  I  have  seen  Mdlle.  Hal- 
kett.  She  is  a  beautiful  young  woman,  deficient  only  in 
words,  doubtless.  My  labour,  except  that  it  may  satisfy 
you,  was  the  vainest  of  tasks.  She  marries  a  ruddy  monsieur 
of  a  name  that  I  forget,  and  of  the  bearing  of  a  member  of 
the  gardes  du  corps,  without  the  stature.  Enfin,  madame, 
I  have  done  my  duty,  and  do  not  regret  it,  since  I  may  hope 
that  it  will  win  for  me  some  approbation  and  a  portion  of 
the  esteem  of  a  lady  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  that  which 
is  now  the  best  of  life  to  me  :  and  I  do  not  undervalue  it  in 
saying  I  would  gladly  have  it  stamped  on  brass  and  depos- 
ited beside  my  father's.  I  have  my  faith.  I  would  it  were 
Nevil's  too  —  and  yours,  should  you  be  in  need  of  it. 

"  He  will  marry  Mdlle.  Denham.  If  I  may  foretell  events, 
she  will  steady  him.  She  is  a  young  person  who  will  not 
feel  astray  in  society  of  his  rank  ;  she  possesses  the  natural 
grace  we  do  not  expect  to  see  out  of  our  country  —  from 
sheer  ignorance  of  what  is  beyond  it.  For  the  moment  she 
affects  to  consider  herself  unworthy;  and  it  is  excusable 
that  she  should  be  slightly  alarmed  at  her  prospect.  But 
Nevil  must  have  a  wife.  I  presume  to  think  that  he  could 
not  have  chosen  better.  Above  all,  make  him  leave  Eng- 
land for  the  Winter.  Adieu,  dear  countess.  Nevil  prom- 
ises me  a  visit  after  his  marriage.  I  shall  not  set  foot  on 
England  again :  but  you,  should  you  ever  come  to  our  land 
of  France,  will  find  my  heart  open  to  you  at  the  gates  of 


WITHOUT  LOVE  613 

undying  grateful  recollection.  I  am  not  skilled  in  writing. 
You  have  looked  into  me  once ;  look  now ;  I  am  the  same. 
Only  I  have  succeeded  in  bringing  myself  to  a  greater  like- 
ness to  the  dead,  as  it  becomes  a  creature  to  be  who  is 
coupled  with  one  of  their  body.  Meanwhile  I  shall  have 
news  of  you.  I  trust  that  soon  I  may  be  warranted  in  for- 
warding congratulations  to  Lord  Komfrey." 

Rosamund  handed  the  letters  to  her  husband.  Not  only 
did  she  think  Miss  Denham  disingenuous,  she  saw  that  the 
girl  was  not  in  love  with  Beauchamp :  and  the  idea  of  a 
loveless  marriage  for  him  threw  the  mournfullest  of 
Hecate's  beams  along  the  course  of  a  career  that  the  pas- 
sionate love  of  a  bride,  though  she  were  not  well-born  and 
not  wealthy,  would  have  rosily  coloured. 

"  Without  love  !  "  she  exclaimed  to  herself.  She  asked 
the  earl's  opinion  of  the  startling  intelligence,  and  of  the 
character  of  that  Miss  Denham,  who  could  pen  such  a  let- 
ter, after  engaging  to  give  her  hand  to  Nevil. 

Lord  Romfrey  laughed  in  his  dumb  way.  "  If  Nevil 
must  have  a  wife  —  and  the  marquise  tells  you  so,  and  she 
ought  to  know  —  he  may  as  well  marry  a  girl  who  won't 
go  all  the  way  down  hill  with  him  at  his  pace.  He  '11  be 
cogged." 

"  You  do  not  object  to  such  an  alliance  ?  " 

"  I  'm  past  objection.  There 's  no  law  against  a  man's 
marrying  his  nurse." 

"  But  she  is  not  even  in  love  with  him  !  " 

"  I  dare  say  not.  He  wants  a  wife :  she  accepts  a  hus- 
band. The  two  women  who  were  in  love  with  him  he 
wouldn't  have." 

Lady  Romfrey  sighed  deeply:  "He  has  lost  Cecilia! 
She  might  still  have  been  his :  but  he  has  taken  to  that 
girl.  And  Madame  de  Rouaillout  praises  the  girl  because 
—  oh  !  I  see  it  —  she  has  less  to  be  jealous  of  in  Miss 
Denham :  of  whose  birth  and  blood  we  know  nothing.  Let 
that  pass.  If  only  she  loved  him  !  I  cannot  endure  the 
thought  of  his  marrying  a  girl  who  is  not  in  love  with 
him." 

"  Just  as  you  like,  my  dear." 

"  I  used  to  suspect  Mr.  Lydiard." 

33 


514  BBAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

^*  Perhaps  he 's  the  man/' 

^'  Oh,  what  an  end  of  so  brilliant  a  beginning  ! " 

"  It  strikes  me,  my  dear,"  said  the  earl,  "  it 's  the  proper 
common  sense  beginning  that  may  have  a  fairish  end." 

"  No,  but  what  I  feel  is  that  he  —  our  Nevil !  —  has  ac- 
complished hardly  anything,  if  anything  ! " 

"He  hasn't  marched  on  London  with  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred thousand  men :  no,  he  has  n't  done  that,"  the  earl 
said,  glancing  back  in  his  mind  through  Beauchamp's 
career.  "  And  he  escapes  what  Stukely  calls  his  nation's 
scourge,  in  the  shape  of  a  statue  turned  out  by  an  English 
chisel.  No  :  we  have  n't  had  much  public  excitement  out 
of  him.  But  one  thing  he  did  do  :  he  got  me  down  on  my 
knees  !  " 

Lord  Romfrey  pronounced  these  words  with  a  sober  em- 
phasis that  struck  the  humour  of  it  sharply  into  Rosamund's 
heart,  through  some  contrast  it  presented  between  Nevil's 
aim  at  the  world  and  hit  of  a  man :  the  immense  deal 
thought  of  it  by  the  earl,  and  the  very  little  that  Nevil 
would  think  of  it  —  the  great  domestic  achievement  to  be 
boasted  of  by  an  enthusiastic  devotee  of  politics ! 

She  embraced  her  husband  with  peals  of  loving  laughter : 
the  last  laughter  heard  in  Eomfrey  Castle  for  many  a  day. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

THE  LAST  OF  NEVIL  BEAUCHAMP 

Not  before  Beauchamp  was  flying  with  the  Winter  gales 
to  warmer  climes  could  Rosamund  reflect  on  his  career  un- 
shadowed by  her  feminine  mortification  at  the  thought  that 
he  was  unloved  by  the  girl  he  had  decided  to  marry.  But 
when  he  was  away  and  winds  blew,  the  clouds  which  ob- 
scured an  embracing  imagination  of  him  • —  such  as,  to  be 
true  and  full  and  sufficient,  should  stretch  like  the  dome  of 
heaven  over  the  humblest  of  lives  under  contemplation  — 
broke,  and  revealed  him  to  her  as  one  who  had  other  than 
failed :  rather  as  one  in  mid  career,  in  mid  forest,  who,  by 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVTL  BEAUCHAMP       515 

force  of  character,  advancing  in  self-conquest,  strikes  his 
impress  right  and  left  around  him,  because  of  his  aim  at 
stars.  He  had  faults,  and  she  gloried  to  think  he  had ;  for 
the  woman's  heart  rejoiced  in  his  portion  of  our  common 
humanity  while  she  named  their  prince  to  men :  but  where 
was  he  to  be  matched  in  devotedness  and  in  gallantry  ?  and 
what  man  of  blood  fiery  as  Nevil's  ever  fought  so  to  sub- 
ject it  ?  Rosamund  followed  him  like  a  migratory  bird, 
hovered  over  his  vessel,  perched  on  deck  beside  the  helm, 
where  her  sailor  was  sure  to  be  stationed,  entered  his 
breast,  communed  with  him,  and  wound  him  round  and 
round  with  her  love.  He  has  mine  !  she  cried.  Her  crav- 
ing that  he  should  be  blest  in  the  reward,  or  flower-crown, 
of  his  wife's  love  of  him  lessened  in  proportion  as  her 
brooding  spirit  vividly  realized  his  deeds.  In  fact  it  had 
been  but  an  example  of  our  very  general  craving  for  a 
climax,  palpable  and  scenic.  She  was  completely  satisfied 
by  her  conviction  that  his  wife  would  respect  and  must  be 
subordinate  to  him.  So  it  had  been  with  her.  As  for  love, 
let  him  come  to  his  Eosamund  for  love,  and  appreciation, 
adoration ! 

Rosamund  drew  nigh  to  her  hour  of  peril  with  this  torch 
of  her  love  of  Beauchamp  to  illuminate  her. 

There  had  been  a  difficulty  in  getting  him  to  go.  One  day 
Cecilia  walked  down  to  Dr.  Shrapnel's  with  Mr.  Tuckham, 
to  communicate  that  the  Esperanza  awaited  Captain  Beau- 
champ,  manned  and  provisioned,  off  the  pier.  ISTow,  he  would 
not  go  without  Dr.  Shrapnel,  nor  the  doctor  without  Jenny ; 
and  Jenny  could  not  hold  back,  seeing  that  the  wish  of  her 
heart  was  for  Nevil  to  be  at  sea,  untroubled  by  political 
questions  and  prowling  Radical  deputies.  So  her  consent 
was  the  seal  of  the  voyage.  What  she  would  not  consent 
to,  was  the  proposal  to  have  her  finger  ringed  previous  to 
the  voyage,  altogether  in  the  manner  of  a  sailor's  bride. 
She  seemed  to  stipulate  for  a  term  of  courtship.  Nevil 
frankly  told  the  doctor  that  he  was  not  equal  to  it ;  any- 
thing that  was  kind  he  was  quite  ready  to  say;  and  any- 
thing that  was  pretty :  but  nothing  particularly  kind  and 
pretty  occurred  to  him  :  he  was  exactly  like  a  juvenile  cor- 
respondent facing  a  blank  sheet  of  letter  paper :  —  he  really 
did  not  know  what  to  say,  further  than  the  uncomplicated 


516  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

exposition  of  his  case,  tliat  he  wanted  a  wife  and  had  found 
the  very  woman.  How,  then,  fathom  Jenny's  mood  for 
delaying  ?  Dr.  Shrapnel's  exhortations  were  so  worded  as 
to  induce  her  to  comport  herself  like.a  Scriptural  woman, 
humbly  wakeful  to  the  surpassing  splendour  of  the  high 
fortune  which  had  befallen  her  in  being  so  selected,  and 
obedient  at  a  sign.  But  she  was,  it  appeared  that  she  was, 
a  maid  of  scaly  vision,  not  perceptive  of  the  blessedness  of 
her  lot.  She  could  have  been  very  little  perceptive,  for  she 
did  not  understand  his  casual  allusion  to  Beauchamp's  readi- 
ness to  overcome  "a  natural  repugnance,"  for  the  purpose 
of  making  her  his  wife. 

Up  to  the  last  moment,  before  Cecilia  Halkett  left  the 
deck  of  the  Esperanza  to  step  on  the  pier,  Jenny  remained 
in  vague  but  excited  expectation  of  something  intervening  to 
bring  Cecilia  and  Beauchamp  together.  It  was  not  a  hope ; 
it  was  with  pure  suspense  that  she  awaited  the  issue.  Cecilia 
was  pale.  Beauchamp  shook  Mr.  Tuckham  by  the  hand, 
and  said,  *'  I  shall  not  hear  the  bells,  but  send  me  word  of  it, 
will  you  ?  "  and  he  wished  them  both  all  happiness. 

The  sails  of  the  schooner  filled.  On  a  fair  frosty  day, 
with  a  light  wind  ruffling  from  the  North-west,  she  swept 
away,  out  of  sight  of  Bevisham,  and  the  island,  into  the 
Channel,  to  within  view  of  the  coast  of  France.  England 
once  below  the  water-line,  alone  with  Beauchamp  and  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  Jenny  Denham  knew  her  fate. 

As  soon  as  that  grew  distinctly  visible  in  shape  and  colour, 
she  ceased  to  be  reluctant.  All  about  her,  in  air  and  sea 
and  unknown  coast,  was  fresh  and  prompting.  And  if  she 
looked  on  Beauchamp,  the  thought  ^  my  husband  I  palpi- 
tated, and  destroyed  and  re-made  her.  Rapidly  she  under- 
went her  transformation  from  doubtfully-minded  woman  to 
woman  awakening  clear-eyed,  and  with  new  sweet  shivers 
in  her  temperate  blood,  like  the  tremulous  light  seen  running 
to  the  morn  upon  a  quiet  sea.  She  fell  under  the  charm  of 
Beauchamp  at  sea. 

In  view  of  the  island  of  Madeira,  Jenny  noticed  that 
some  trouble  had  come  upon  Dr.  Shrapnel  and  Beauchamp, 
both  of  whom  had  been  hilarious  during  the  gales ;  but 
sailing  into  Summer  they  began  to  wear  that  look  which 
indicated  one  of  their  serious  deliberations.     She  was  not 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVTL  BEAUCHAMP  517 

taken  into  their  confidence,  and  after  a  while  they  recovered 
partially. 

The  truth  was,  they  had  been  forced  back  upon  old  Eng- ' 
lish  ground  by  a  recognition  of  the  absolute  necessity,  for 
her  sake,  of  handing  themselves  over  to  a  parson.     In  Eng- 
land, possibly,  a  civil  marriage  might  have  been  proposed 
to  the  poor  girl.     In  a  foreign  island,  they  would  be  driven 
not  simply  to  accept  the  services  of  a  parson,  but  to  seek 
him  and  solicit  him :  otherwise  the  knot,  faster  than  any 
sailor's  in  binding,  could  not  be  tied.     Decidedly  it  could 
not ;  and  how  submit  ?     Neither  Dr.  Shrapnel  nor  Beau- 
champ  were  of  a  temper  to  deceive  the  clerical  gentleman  ; 
only  they  had  to  think  of  Jenny's  feelings.     Alas  for  us !  — 
this   our  awful  baggage  in   the   rear  of  humanity,  these 
women  who  have  not  moved  on  their  own  feet  one   step 
since  the  primal  mother  taught  them  to  suckle,  are  perpetu- 
ally pulling  us  backward  on  the  march.     Slaves  of  custom, 
forms,   shows   and   superstitions,  they   are   slaves   of  the 
priests.      "They   are   so   in   gratitude   perchance,   as   the 
matter  works,"  Dr.  Shrapnel  admitted.     For  at  one  period 
the  priests  did  cherish  and  protect  the  weak  from  animal 
man.     But  we  have  entered  a  broader  daylight  now,  when 
the  sun  of  high  heaven  has  crowned  our  structure  with  the 
flower  of  brain,  like  him  to  scatter  mists,  and  penetrate 
darkness,  and  shoot  from  end  to  end  of  earth ;  and  must 
we  still  be  grinning   subserviently  to  ancient  usages  and 
stale  forms,  because  of  a  baggage  that  it  is,  woe  to  us  !  too 
true,  we  cannot  cut  ourselves  loose  from  ?     Lydiard  might 
say  we  are  compelling  the  priests  to  fight,  and  that  they 
are  compact  foemen,  not  always  passive.     Battle,  then  !  — 
The  cry  was  valiant.     Nevertheless,  Jenny  would  certainly 
insist  upon  the  presence  of  a  parson,  in  spite  of  her  bride- 
groom's "natural  repugnance."     Dr.    Shrapnel  offered  to 
argue  it  with  her,  being  of  opinion  that  a  British  consul 
could  satisfactorily  perform   the   ceremony.      Beauchamp 
knew  her  too  well.     Moreover,  though  tongue-tied   as  to 
love-making,  he  was  in  a  hurry  to  be  married.     Jenny's 
eyes  were  lovely,  her  smiles  were  soft ;  the  fair  promise  of 
her  was  in  bloom  on  her  face  and  figure.     He  could  not 
wait;  he  must  off  to  the  parson. 

Then   came   the   question  as   to   whether   honesty  and 


518 

honour  did  not  impose  it  on  them  to  deal  openly  with  that 
gentle,  and  on  such  occasions  unobtrusive  official,  by  means 
of  a  candid  statement  to  him  overnight,  to  the  effect  that 
they  were  the  avowed  antagonists  of  his  Church,  which 
would  put  him  on  his  defence,  and  lead  to  an  argument 
that  would  accomplish  his  overthrow.  —  You  parsons, 
whose  cause  is  good,  marshal  out  the  poor  of  the  land,  that 
we  may  see  the  sort  of  army  your  stewardship  has  gained 
for  you.  What !  no  army  ?  only  women  and  hoary  men  ? 
And  in  the  rear  rank,  to  support  you  as  an  institution,  none 
but  fanatics,  cowards,  white-eyeballed  dogmatists,  time- 
servers,  money-changers,  mockers  in  their  sleeves  ?  What 
is  this  ? 

But  the  prospect  of  so  completely  confounding  the  unfor- 
tunate parson  warned  Beauchamp  that  he  might  have  a 
shot  in  his  locker :  the  parson  heavily  trodden  on  will  turn. 
"I  suppose  we  must  be  hypocrites,"  he  said  in  dejection. 
Dr.  Shrapnel  was  even  more  melancholy.  He  again  offered 
to  try  his  persuasiveness  upon  Jenny.  Beauchamp  declined 
to  let  her  be  disturbed. 

She  did  not  yield  so  very  lightly  to  the  invitation  to  go 
before  a  parson.  She  had  to  be  wooed  after  all ;  a  Harry 
Hotspur's  wooing.  Three  clergymen  of  the  Established 
Church  were  on  the  island :  "  And  where  won't  they  be, 
where  there  's  fine  scenery  and  comforts  abound  ?  "  Beau- 
champ said  to  the  doctor  ungratefully. 

"  Whether  a  celibate  clergy  ruins  the  Faith  faster  than 
a  non-celibate,  I  won't  dispute,"  replied  the  doctor  ;  "  but  a 
non-celibate  interwinds  with  us,  and  is  likely  to  keep  up  a 
one-storied  edifice  longer." 

Jenny  hesitated.  She  was  a  faltering  unit  against  an 
ardent  and  imperative  two  in  the  council.  And  Beau- 
champ had  shown  her  a  letter  of  Lady  Komfrey's  very 
clearly  signifying  that  she  and  her  lord  anticipated  tidings 
of  the  union.  Marrying  Beauchamp  was  no  simple  adven- 
ture.    She  feared  in  her  bosom,  and  resigned  herself. 

She  had  a  taste  of  what  it  was  to  be,  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  service.  Beauchamp  thanked  the  good-natured  clergy- 
man, and  spoke  approvingly  of  him  to  his  bride,  as  an 
agreeable  well-bred  gentlemanly  person.  Then,  fronting 
her  and  taking  both  her  hands :    "  Now,  my  darling,"  he 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVIL  BEAIJCHAMP  519 

said,  "  you  must  pledge  me  your  word  to  this  :  I  have 
stooped  my  head  to  the  parson,  and  I  am  content  to  have 
done  that  to  win  you,  though  I  don't  think  much  of  myself 
for  doing  it.  T  can't  look  so  happy  as  I  am.  And  this 
idle  ceremony  —  however,  I  thank  God  I  have  you,  and  I 
thank  you  for  taking  me.  But  you  won't  expect  me  to 
give  in  to  the  parson  again." 

"  But,  Nevil,"  she  said,  fearing  what  was  to  come,  "  they 
are  gentlemen,  good  men." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"  They  are  educated  men,  Nevil." 

"  Jenny  !  Jenny  Beauchamp,  they  're  not  men,  they  're 
Churchmen.  My  experience  of  the  priest  in  our  country  is, 
that  he  has  abandoned  —  he  's  dead  against  the  only  cause 
that  can  justify  and  keep  up  a  Church :  the  cause  of  the 
poor  —  the  people.  He  is  a  creature  of  the  moneyed  class. 
I  look  on  him  as  a  pretender.  I  go  through  his  forms,  to 
save  my  wife  from  annoyance,  but  there 's  the  end  of  it : 
and  if  ever  I'm  helpless,  unable  to  resist  him,  I  rely  on 
your  word  not  to  let  him  intrude  ;  he 's  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  burial  of  me.  He  's  against  the  cause  of 
the  people.  Very  well :  I  make  my  protest  to  the  death 
against  him.  When  he  's  a  Christian  instead  of  a  Church- 
man, then  may  my  example  not  be  followed.  It 's  little 
use  looking  for  that." 

Jenny  dropped  some  tears  on  her  bridal  day.  She 
sighed  her  submission.  "  So  long  as  you  do  not  change," 
said  she. 

"  Change  ! "  cried  Nevil.  "  That 's  for  the  parson.  Now 
it 's  over :  we  start  fair.  My  darling !  I  have  you.  I 
don't  mean  to  bother  you.  I'm  sure  you'll  see  that  the 
enemies  of  Eeason  are  the  enemies  of  the  human  race  ;  you 
will  see  that.     I  can  wait." 

"  If  we  can  be  sure  that  we  ourselves  are  using  reason 
rightly,  Nevil !  —  not  prejudice." 

"  Of  course.  But  don't  you  see,  my  Jenny,  we  have  no 
interest  in  opposing  reason  ?  " 

"  But  have  we  not  all  grown  up  together  ?  And  is  it 
just  or  wise  to  direct  our  efforts  to  overthrow  a  solid  struc- 
ture that  is  a  part  .  .  .  ?  " 

He  put  his  legal  right  in  force  to  shut  her  mouth,  telling 


520  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAREER 

lier  presently  she  miglit  Lydiardize  as  much  as  she  liked. 
While  practising  this  mastery,  he  assured  her  he  would 
always  listen  to  her:  yes,  whether  she  Lydiardized,  or 
what  Dr.  Shrapnel  called  Jennyprated. 

"That  is  to  say,  dear  Kevil,  that  you  have  quite  made 
up  your  mind  to  a  toddling  chattering  little  nursery 
wife?'' 

Very  much  the  contrary  to  anything  of  the  sort,  he 
declared;  and  he  proved  his  honesty  by  announcing  an 
immediate  reflection  that  had  come  to  him :  "  How  oddly 
things  are  settled !  Cecilia  Halkett  and  Tuckham ;  you 
and  I !  Now,  I  know  for  certain  that  I  have  brought 
Cecilia  Halkett  out  of  her  woman's  Toryism,  and  given 
her  at  least  liberal  views,  and  she  goes  and  marries  an 
arrant  Tory;  while  you,  a  bit  of  a  Tory  at  heart,  more 
than  anything  else,  have  married  an  ultra." 

"Perhaps  we  may  hope  that  the  conflict  will  be  sea- 
sonable on  both  sides  ?  —  if  you  give  me  fair  play, 
Nevil!'; 

As  fair  play  as  a  woman's  lord  could  give  her,  she  was  to 
have  ;  with  which,  adieu  to  argumentation  and  controversy, 
and  all  the  thanks  in  life  to  the  parson !  On  a  lovely 
island,  free  from  the  seductions  of  care,  possessing  a  wife 
who,  instead  of  starting  out  of  romance  and  poetry  with 
him  to  the  supreme  honeymoon,  led  him  back  to  those 
forsaken  valleys  of  his  youth,  and  taught  him  the  joys  of 
colour  and  sweet  companionship,  simple  delights,  a  sister 
mind,  with  a  loveliness  of  person  and  nature  unimagined 
by  him,  Beauchamp  drank  of  a  happiness  that  neither 
Ben^e  nor  Cecilia  had  promised.  flis  wooing  of  Jenny 
Beauchamp  was  a  flattery  richer  than  any  the  maiden 
Jenny  Denham  could  have  deemed  her  due  ;  and  if  his 
wonder  in  experiencing  such  strange  gladness  was  quaintly 
ingenuous,  it  was  delicious  to  her  to  see  and  know  full 
surely  that  he  who  was  at  little  pains  to  court,  or  please, 
independently  of  the  urgency  of  the  truth  in  him,  had 
come  to  be  her  lover  through  being  her  husband. 

Here  I  would  stop.  It  is  Beauchamp's  career  that  carries 
me  on  to  its  close,  where  the  lanterns  throw  their  beams 
off  the  mudbanks  by  the  black  riverside ;  when  some  few 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVIL  BEAUCHAMP       521 

English  men  and  women  differed  from  the  world  in  think- 
ing that  it  had  suffered  a  loss. 

They  sorrowed  for  the  earl  when  tidings  came  to  them  of 
the  loss  of  his  child,  alive  one  hour  in  his  arms.  Kosamund 
caused  them  to  be  deceived  as  to  her  condition.  She  sur- 
vived ;  she  wrote  to  Jenny,  bidding  her  keep  her  husband 
cruising.  Lord  Eomf rey  added  a  brief  word  :  he  told  Nevil 
that  he  would  see  no  one  for  the  present ;  hoped  he  would 
be  absent  a  year,  not  a  day  less.  To  render  it  the  more 
easily  practicable,  in  the  next  packet  of  letters  Colonel 
Halkett  and  Cecilia  begged  them  not  to  bring  the  Esperanza 
home  for  the  yachting-season :  the  colonel  said  his  daughter 
was  to  be  married  in  April,  and  that  bridegroom  and  bride 
had  consented  to  take  an  old  man  off  with  them  to  Italy ; 
perhaps  in  the  autumn  all  might  meet  in  Venice. 

"And  you've  never  seen  Venice,''  Beauchamp  said  to 
Jenny. 

"Everything  is  new  to  me,"  said  she,  penetrating  and 
gladly  joining  the  conspiracy  to  have  him  out  of  England. 

Dr.  Shrapnel  was  not  so  compliant  as  the  young  husband. 
Where  he  could  land  and  botanize,  as  at  Madeira,  he  let 
time  fly  and  drum  his  wings  on  air,  but  the  cities  of  priests 
along  the  coast  of  Portugal  and  Spain  roused  him  to  a  burn- 
ing sense  of  that  flight  of  time  and  the  vacuity  it  told  of  in 
his  labours.  Greatly  to  his  astonishment,  he  found  that  it 
was  no  longer  he  and  Beauchamp  against  Jenny,  but  Jenny 
and  Beauchamp  against  him. 

"  What ! "  he  cried,  "  to  draw  breath  day  by  day,  and  not 
to  pay  for  it  by  striking  daily  at  the  rock  Iniquity  ?  Are 
you  for  that,  Beauchamp  ?  And  in  a  land  where  these 
priests  walk  with  hats  curled  like  the  water-lily's  leaf  with- 
out the  flower  ?  How  far  will  you  push  indolent  unreason 
to  gain  the  delusion  of  happiness  ?  There  is  no  such  thing : 
but  there's  trance.  That  talk  of  happiness  is  a  carrion 
clamour  of  the  creatures  of  prey.  Take  it  —  and  you're 
helping  tear  some  poor  wretch  to  pieces,  whom  you  might 
be  constructing,  saving  perchance :  some  one  ?  some  thou- 
sands !  You,  Beauchamp,  when  I  met  you  first,  you  were 
for  England,  England !  for  a  breadth  of  the  palm  of  my 
hand  comparatively  —  the  round  of  a  copper   penny,  no 


522  BEAUCHAMP'S   CAEEER 

wider !  And  from  that  you  jumped  at  a  bound  to  tlie  round 
of  this  earth :  you  were  for  humanity.  Ay,  we  sailed  our 
planet  among  the  icy  spheres,  and  were  at  blood-heat  for  its 
destiny,  you  and  I !  And  now  you  hover  for  a  wind  to 
catch  you.  So  it  is  for  a  soul  rejecting  prayer.  This  wind 
and  that  has  it  :  the  wellsprings  within  are  shut  down  fast ! 
I  pardon  my  Jenny,  my  Harry  Denham's  girl.  She  is  a 
woman,  and  has  a  brain  like  a  bell  that  rings  all  round  to 
the  tongue.  It  is  her  kingdom,  of  the  interdicted  untrav- 
ersed  frontiers.  But  what  cares  she,  or  any  woman,  that 
this  Age  of  ours  should  lie  like  a  carcase  against  the  Sun  ? 
What  cares  any  woman  to  help  to  hold  up  Life  to  him  ? 
He  breeds  divinely  upon  life,  filthy  upon  stagnation.  Sail 
you  away,  if  you  will,  in  your  trance.  I  go.  I  go  home  by 
land  alone,  and  I  await  you.  Here  in  this  land  of  moles 
upright,  I  do  naught  but  execrate;  I  am  a  pulpit  of  curses. 
Counter-anathema,  you  might  call  me." 

"  Oh !  I  feel  the  comparison  so,  for  England  shining 
spiritually  bright,"  said  Jenny,  and  cut  her  husband  adrift 
with  the  exclamation,  and  saw  him  float  away  to  Dr. 
Shrapnel. 

"  Spiritually  bright !  " 

"  By  comparison,  ISTevil." 

"There's  neither  spiritual  nor  political  brightness  in 
England,  but  a  common  resolution  to  eat  of  good  things  and 
stick  to  them,"  said  the  doctor :  "  and  we  two  out  of  Eng- 
land, there 's  barely  a  voice  to  cry  scare  to  the  feeders.  I  'm 
back !     I  'm  home  !  " 

They  lost  him  once  in  Cadiz,  and  discovered  him  on  the 
quay,  looking  about  for  a  vessel.  In  getting  him  to  return 
to  the  Esperanza^  they  nearly  all  three  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  police.  Beauchamp  gave  him  a  great  deal  of  his  time, 
reading  and  discussing  with  him  on  deck  and  in  the  cabin, 
and  projecting  future  enterprises,  to  pacify  his  restlessness. 
A  translation  of  Plato  had  become  Beauchamp's  intellectual 
world.  This  philosopher  singularly  anticipated  his  ideas. 
Concerning  himself  he  was  beginning  to  think  that  he  had 
many  years  ahead  of  him  for  work.  He  was  with  Dr. 
Shrapnel,  as  to  the  battle,  and  with  Jenny  as  to  the  delay  in 
recommencing  it.  Both  the  men  laughed  at  the  constant 
employment   she   gave  them  among  the  Greek  islands  in 


THE  LAST   OF  NEVIL  BEAUCHAISIP  523 

furnishing  her  severely  accurate  accounts  of  sea-fights  and 
land-fights  ;  and  the  scenes  being  before  them  they  could 
neither  of  them  protest  that  their  task-work  was  an  idle 
labour.  Dr.  Shrapnel  assisted  in  fighting  Marathon  and 
Salamis  over  again  cordially  —  to  shield  Great  Britain  from 
the  rule  of  a  satrapy. 

Beauchamp  often  tried  to  conjure  words  to  paint  his  wife. 
On  grave  subjects  she  had  the  manner  of  speaking  of  a  shy 
scholar,  and  between  grave  and  playful,  between  smiling  and 
serious,  her  clear  head,  her  nobly  poised  character,  seemed 
to  him  to  have  never  had  a  prototype  and  to  elude  the  art  of 
picturing  it  in  expression,  until  he  heard  Lydiard  call  her 
whimsically,  "  Portia  disrobing :  '^  Portia  half  in  her  doctor's 
gown,  half  out  of  it.  They  met  Lydiard  and  his  wife  Louise, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tuckham,  in  Venice,  where  upon  the  first 
day  of  October,  Jenny  Beauchamp  gave  birth  to  a  son. 
The  thrilling  mother  did  not  perceive  on  this  occasion  the 
gloom  she  cast  over  the  father  of  the  child  and  Dr.  Shrap- 
nel. The  youngster  would  insist  on  his  right  to  be  sprinkled 
by  the  parson,  to  get  a  legal  name  and  please  his  mother. 
At  all  turns  in  the  history  of  our  healthy  relations  with 
women  we  are  confronted  by  the  parson !  "  And,  upon 
my  word,  I  believe,"  Beauchamp  said  to  Lydiard,  ''those 
parsons  —  not  bad  creatures  in  private  life  :  there  was  one 
in  Madeira  I  took  a  personal  liking  to  —  but  they  're  utterly 
ignorant  of  what  men  feel  to  them  —  more  ignorant  than 
women ! "  Mr.  Tuckham  and  Mrs.  Lydiard  would  not  listen 
to  his  foolish  objections ;  nor  were  they  ever  mentioned 
to  Jenny.  Apparently  the  commission  of  the  act  of  mar- 
riage was  to  force  Beauchamp  from  all  his  positions  one  by 
one. 

''  The  education  of  that  child  ? "  Mrs.  Lydiard  said  to 
her  husband. 

He  considered  that  the  mother  would  prevail. 

Cecilia  feared  she  would  not. 

"  Depend  upon  it,  he  '11  make  himself  miserable  if  he 
can,'^  said  Tuckham. 

That  gentleman,  however,  was  perpetually  coming  fuming 
from  arguments  with  Beauchamp,  and  his  opinion  was  a 
controversialist's.  His  common  sense  was  much  afflicted. 
'  I  thought  marriage  would  have  stopped  all  those  absurdi- 


524  BEAUCHAMP'S  CAREER 

ties/'  he  said,  glaring  angrily,  laughing,  and  then  frowning. 
"  I  We  warned  him  I  '11  go  out  of  my  way  to  come  across  him 
if  he  carries  on  this  headlong  folly.  A  man  should  accept 
his  country  for  what  it  is  when  he  's  born  into  it.  Don't 
tell  me  he  's  a  good  fellow.  I  know  he  is,  but  there  's  an 
ass  mounted  on  the  good  fellow.  Talks  of  the  parsons ! 
Why,  they  're  men  of  education." 

"  They  could  n't  steer  a  ship  in  a  gale,  though." 
"  Oh !  he 's  a  good  sailor.     And  let  him  go  to  sea,"  said 
Tuckham.     "  His  wife 's  a  prize.     He  's  hardly  worthy  of 
her.     If  she  manages  him  she  11  deserve  a  monument  for 
doing  a  public  service." 

How  fortunate  it  is  for  us  that  here  and  there  we  do  not 
succeed  in  wresting  our  temporary  treasure  from  the  grasp 
of  the  Fates  ! 

This  good  old  commonplace  reflection  came  to  Beauchamp 
while  clasping  his  wife's  hand  on  the  deck  of  the  Esperanza^ 
and  looking  up  at  the  mountains  over  the  Gulf  of  Venice. 
The  impression  of  that  marvellous  dawn  when  he  and  Renee 
looked  up  hand-in-hand  was  ineffaceable,  and  pity  for  the 
tender  hand  lost  to  him  wrought  in  his  blood,  but  Jenny  was 
a  peerless  wife  ;  and  though  not  in  the  music  of  her  tongue, 
or  in  subtlety  of  delicate  meaning  did  she  excel  Eenee,  as  a 
sober  adviser  she  did,  and  as  a  firm  speaker ;  and  she  had 
homelier  deep  eyes,  thoughtfuller  brows.  The  father  could 
speculate  with  good  hope  of  Jenny's  child.  Cecilia's 
wealth,  too,  had  gone  over  to  the  Tory  party,  with  her 
incomprehensible  espousal  of  Tuckham.  Let  it  go;  let  all 
go  for  dowerless  Jenny ! 

It  was  (she  dared  to  recollect  it  in  her  anguish)  Jenny's 
choice  to  go  home  in  the  yacht  that  decided  her  husband 
not  to  make  the  journey  by  land  in  company  with  the 
Lydiards. 

The  voyage  was  favourable.  Beauchamp  had  a  passing 
wish  to  land  on  the  Norman  coast,  and  take  Jenny  for  a  day 
to  Tourdestelle.  He  deferred  to  her  desire  to  land  baby 
speedily,  now  they  were  so  near  home.  They  ran  past  Otley 
river,  having  sight  of  Mount  Laurels,  and  on  to  Bevisham, 
with  swelling  sails.     There  they  parted.     Beauchamp  made 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVIL  BEAUCHAMP  525 

it  one  of  his  "  points  of  honour  ''*  to  deliver  the  vessel  where 
he  had  taken  her,  at  her  moorings  in  the  Otley.  One  of  the 
piermen  stood  before  Beauchamp,  and  saluting  him,  said  he 
had  been  directed  to  inform  him  that  the  Earl  of  Romfrey 
was  with  Colonel  Halkett,  expecting  him  at  Mount  Laurels. 
Beauchamp  wanted  his  wife  to  return  in  the  yacht.  She 
turned  her  eyes  to  Dr.  Shrapnel.  It  was  out  of  the  question 
that  the  doctor  should  think  of  going.  Husband  and  wife 
parted.     She  saw  him  no  more. 

This  is  no  time  to  tell  of  weeping.  The  dry  chronicle  is 
fittest.  Hard  on  nine  o'clock  in  the  December  darkness,  the 
night  being  still  and  clear,  Jenny's  babe  was  at  her  breast, 
and  her  ears  were  awake  for  the  return  of  her  husband.  A 
man  rang  at  the  door  of  the  house,  and  asked  to  see  Dr. 
Shrapnel.  This  man  was  Killick,  the  Eadical  Sam  of 
politics.  He  said  to  the  doctor:  "I'm  going  to  hit  you 
sharp,  sir ;  I  've  had  it  myself :  please  put  on  your  hat 
and  come  out  with  me ;  and  close  the  door.  They  must  n't 
hear  inside.  And  here 's  a  fly.  I  knew  you  'd  be  off 
for  the  finding  of  the  body.  Commander  Beauchamp 's 
drowned." 

Dr.  Shrapnel  drove  round  by  the  shore  of  the  broad  water 
past  a  great  hospital  and  ruined  abbey  to  Otley  village. 
Killick  had  lifted  him  into  the  conveyance,  and  he  lifted 
him  out.  Dr.  Shrapnel  had  not  spoken  a  word.  Lights 
were  flaring  on  the  river,  illuminating  the  small  craft  som- 
brely. Men,  women,  and  children  crowded  the  hard  and 
landing-places,  the  marshy  banks  and  the  decks  of  colliers 
and  trawlers.  Neither  Killick  nor  Dr.  Shrapnel  questioned 
them.  The  lights  were  torches  and  lanterns ;  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  boats  moving  in  couples  was  the  dragging  for 
the  dead. 

"  O  God,  let 's  find  his  body,"  a  woman  called  out. 

"  Just  a  word  ;  is  it  Commander  Beauchamp  ?  "  Killick 
said  to  her. 

She  was  scarcely  aware  of  a  question.  ^*  Here,  this  one," 
she  said,  and  plucked  a  little  boy  of  eight  by  the  hand 
close  against  her  side,  and  shook  him  roughly  and  kissed 
him. 

An  old  man  volunteered  information.  *^  That 's  the  boy. 
That  boy  was  in  his  father's  boat  out  there,  with  two  of  his 


526  BEAUCHAMP'S   CABEER 

brothers,  larking ;  and  he  and  another  older  than  him  fell 
overboard ;  and  just  then  Commander  Beauchamp  was  row- 
ing by,  and  I  saw  him  from  off  here,  where  I  stood,  jump  up 
and  dive,  and  he  swam  to  his  boat  with  one  of  them  and  got 
him  in  safe  :  that  boy  :  and  he  dived  again  after  the  other, 
and  was  down  a  long  time.  Either  he  burst  a  vessel  or  he 
got  cramp,  for  he  'd  been  rowing  himself  from  the  schooner 
grounded  down  at  the  river-mouth,  and  must  have  been  hot 
when  he  jumped  in  :  either  way,  he  fetched  the  second  up, 
and  sank  with  him.     Down  he  went." 

A  fisherman  said  to  Killick:  "Do  you  hear  that  voice 
thundering  ?  That 's  the  great  Lord  Romfrey.  He 's  been 
directing  the  dragging  since  five  o'  the  evening,  and  will  till 
he  drops  or  drowns,  or  up  comes  the  body." 

"  0  God,  let 's  find  the  body  ! "  the  woman  with  the  little 
boy  called  out. 

A  torch  lit  up  Lord  Romfrey's  face  as  he  stepped  ashore. 
"  The  flood  has  played  us  a  trick,"  he  said.  "  We  want 
more  drags,  or  with  the  next  ebb  the  body  may  be  lost  for 
days  in  this  infernal  water." 

The  mother  of  the  rescued  boy  sobbed,  "  Oh,  my  lord,  my 
lord ! " 

The  earl  caught  sight  of  Dr.  Shrapnel,  and  went  to  him. 

"  My  wife  has  gone  down  to  Mrs.  Beauchamp,"  he  said. 
"She  will  bring  her  and  the  baby  to  Mount  Laurels. 
The  child  will  have  to  be  hand-fed.  I  take  you  with  me. 
You  must  not  be  alone." 

He  put  his  arm  within  the  arm  of  the  heavily-breathing 
man  whom  he  had  once  flung  to  the  ground,  to  support  him. 

*^  My  lord !  my  lord ! "  sobbed  the  woman,  and  dropped 
on  her  knees. 

"What's  this?"  the  earl  said,  drawing  his  hand  away 
from  the  woman's  clutch  at  it. 

"  She 's  the  mother,  my  lord,"  several  explained  to  him. 

"Mother  of  what?" 

"  My  boy,"  the  woman  cried,  and  dragged  the  urchin  to 
Lord  Romf rey's  feet,  cleaning  her  boy's  face  with  her  apron. 

"  It 's  the  boy  Commander  Beauchamp  drowned  to  save," 
said  a  man. 

All  the  lights  of  the  ring  were  turned  on  the  head  of  the 
boy.    Dr.  Shrapnel's  eyes  and  Lord  Bomfrey's  fell  on  the 


THE  LAST  OF  NEVIL  BEAUCHAMP       527 

abashed  little  creature.  The  boy  struck  out  both  arms  to 
get  his  fists  against  his  eyelids. 

This  is  what  we  have  in  exchange  for  Beauchamp! 

It  was  not  uttered,  but  it  was  visible  in  the  blank  stare 
at  one  another  of  the  two  men  who  loved  Beauchamp,  after 
they  had  examined  the  insignificant  bit  of  mudbank  life 
remaining  in  this  world  in  the  place  of  him. 


THE  END. 


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